


The Secret of the Old Clock (But in 2020)

by certifriedbkemploy



Category: Nancy Drew - Carolyn Keene
Genre: Rated T for Mild Swearing (By Nancy)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-11
Updated: 2020-05-11
Packaged: 2021-03-03 05:14:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 31,691
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24119350
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/certifriedbkemploy/pseuds/certifriedbkemploy
Summary: You ever want a revision of the classic Nancy Drew #001 Secret of the Old Clock set in modern times in the Nancy Drew Diaries 1st POV format? No? Just me? Well, here it is, anyway:16-year-old Nancy Drew is in for the most boring summer of her life with nothing more interesting happening than a commercial for some spray-on soap and the Mystery of the Missing Job Applications. But one fortuitous shopping trip puts her on the trail of a truly interesting mystery: Josiah Crowley's supposed second will. While her father would rather she keep out of what he deems a 'family matter', Nancy becomes too invested to stay away. Can she help Crowley's cousins solve their inheritance kerfuffle? Or is she getting in over her head?A mixture of the 1930 original manuscript by Mildred Wirt-Benson and the 1959 revision penned by Nancy's biggest fan Harriet S Adams herself, this version features a happy mix of both thrown into modern times. And chickens!
Comments: 5
Kudos: 2





	1. Will

"Can you wash cashmere?"

“Nancy Drew.”

“Don’t yell at me. It was a joke, Bess Marvin.” Not a very good one, I’d admit. But lately, Bess was on edge about her cousin’s upcoming wedding. I could have cracked the best joke of the century and she would have told me she didn’t have time for humor because she had to focus on flower arrangements. I seriously couldn’t even remember what cousin was getting married. But I was being a good friend. Which is why I was here. At the department store. Picking out our rehearsal dinner outfits.

“Nancy, I _cannot_ deal with this right now,” Bess said with enough dramatic flair to star in a school play. That was one of her new favorite words- _cannot._ I guess can't just wasn't cutting it anymore. "I have a bridesmaid dress fitting in about ten minutes and I'm pretty sure I gained about ten pounds so they're going to be making even more alterations to it!"

"Maybe stop eating your weight in chocolate-covered strawberries," I tried.

"Oh, what do you know?" Bess complained. "Just buy whatever off the rack and you can return it if I don't like it."

"Yeah, _I_ can return it," I said about as dryly as I could manage. "Because I clearly don't have anything else to do with my life." I really didn't. “But Bess, I think you’re taking this a little too seriously. Laura-“

“Lily.”

“Lily probably doesn’t want you stressing this much about the wedding,” I said. “I mean, you’re a bridesmaid. Not the maid of honor.” I had more of my speech. All about how weddings were archaic and really just a means to trap women in a cycle of impossible standards and unnecessary self-punishment.

“Yeah, that’s great, Nancy. Get me something blue. It’ll match my eyes.” And then she hung up. Well, so much for my speech. It was a good one, too. George Fayne- Bess’s cousin who wasn’t the Lily side of the family and my other best friend- would have liked it. Unfortunately, George was up in the mountain for a summer sports camp and could be reached by pigeon more reliably than cell phone. And here I was- shopping for clothes at our sleepy town of River Heights’s only department store right back at home. No big summer plans or schemes of grandeur before school started again.

That said, I couldn't really complain. Summer was supposed to be the best thing in the world when you were sixteen and didn’t have much to do. Plus, I did need to do some shopping for new clothes, anyway. And I had the benefit of my dad being nice and footing the bill for me. I was originally supposed to get a job this summer- something underpaid, underappreciated, and with a silly uniform presumably in the form of a hat shaped like a hot dog-, but that didn’t happen. Simply put, I forgot. There were probably applications buried somewhere in my room.

I would pay my dad back, don’t get me wrong. But for the time being, I preferred the term ‘appreciated’ to ‘spoiled rotten’. Though that term could easily be applied to two girls I happened to spot talking to a sales associate one aisle over. The place that I picked to shop at wasn't exactly high-end, but it obviously wanted to be. And that was also a fitting description for the two girls.

"This is abhorrent," one of them was snarling at the poor sales rep. Both of them looked to be about my age, but this one just looked older. Maybe it was her greasy hair, maybe it was her major overbite- personally, I thought it was both. She was short, stout, and angry in contrast to the rather vapid-looking girl standing next to her with her eyes sort of glazed over. She was rail thin and sort of pretty if you looked at her from exactly the right angle. Potentially on a full moon with the planets properly aligned and an eyepatch over one eye to make her seem further away from you than she was. "Do you know who we are?"

I'll admit it- I was curious. I have this natural inclination to be nosy and it's gotten me into a few weird situations. But I love drama as much as I love intrigue so I was all ears for this conversation. Pretending to peruse a rack of ugly skirts nearby, I expertly eavesdropped on the conversation. "My apologies, Miss Topham," the sales rep sputtered out. "But I was helping someone else until just now and-"

"My sister and I are about to be very rich!" the stout girl spat. I don't think the tall skinny one knew how to use her mouth to form words. "And we will remember how awful your service is when that happens, do you hear me?"

I will also admit to another weakness of mine- I hate watching people get treated unfairly. It was what made me stick up for kids getting picked on on the playground since I could first walk two steps in front of me. And what was happening a few feet away from me definitely looked like bullying. So when the shorter sister sent the sales rep scurrying off to find something for her, I continued to pretend like the ugly skirts were actually the best thing I'd ever seen just to make sure they didn't do something else awful to the poor sales lady. It didn't take very long for them to do exactly that. "What is that?" the short one harped when the sales rep presented her with a dress. "Isabel, have you ever seen something more hideous?"

The dress wasn't bad. It was a cute powder blue slip that had tulle design near the top of it. It was something Bess might like- especially because it was blue. Still, the taller girl- Isabel- nodded fervently to her sister's claim. Keeping an amicable expression was clearly the sales rep's greatest achievement for the day. "Oh, but this is just in off the designers from Paris. It's haute couture." I wasn’t much of a fashion plate, but I could tell that probably wasn’t true. I wasn't going to fault her for trying. She probably made commission.

Still, the stout sister stuck her nose up at it like it were covered in dog poo. "I don't know what that means, but it certainly doesn't mean 'even mildly fashionable'," she threw out before snatching the dress away from the sales rep. "Go find us something else that doesn't make our eyes hurt."

I could tell by the sales rep momentary slip in composure that that was not her usual job. She practically slunk off to do the girl's bidding and didn't look too happy about it in the process. Meanwhile, Isabel peered at the dress with her big, dewy eyes while her sister held it up and sneered at it. "It's not too bad," she whispered, just loud enough for me to hear it from where I was lingering near the ugly cardigans. I don't know why they thought putting them next to the ugly skirts was a good arrangement. "Mama would like it." Isabel's voice was worse than her face- a high, reedy voice that sounded sort of like a kazoo that someone had left in the sandbox.

Her sister checked the price tag on the supposedly 'ugly dress' and scoffed. "It's too expensive. Daddy would throw a fit if we started spending all of old Crowley's money before we even got it." Now that was an interesting sentence. "But we can just make an adjustment." An even more interesting sentence. Coupled with the fact that she reached up one grubby hand to rip some of the tulle on the dress right off had me nearly drop my jaw in shock. "There," the squatter sister cooed, seemingly pleased with herself. She switched back to sour-faced a second later when the sales rep returned with an arm full of dresses. "We've changed our minds. We'll take this one." She pointed to the blue dress in her hands. "But we will not pay full price."

The sales rep looked like she'd just been punched. "But that's one of a kind!" she said, clearly flustered. "It's the only one in the store."

"Well, it's damaged," snapped the stout sister. Isabel just stood by blank-faced. I realized she kind of looked like a ferret. Her sister, on the other hand, was just a plain rat. "We want 25% off."

"But-" the sales rep couldn't even finish her sentence. I couldn't blame her.

"Where is your manager?" the stout sister trilled. "I demand to speak with him."

At that exact moment, a balding man walking by reeled around on his heel- face serious. "I'm the manager," he announced. "What seems to be the problem here?"

The sales rep went pale as the shorter girl peered at the bald man. "Your associate here just tried to sell us a damaged dress at full price," she insisted.

"No, I didn't!" the sales rep yelped. She snapped her mouth shut the moment her manager levelled her with a look. The 'how dare you be rude to this customer' look that every retail worker feared.

"I'm very sorry, miss," the manager said with a bow of his head. "We'll give you a discount if you'd still like the item. And we'll even pay for the damage to be repaired by a top quality seamstress."

From the looks of the dress, it didn't even deserve that much. But while Isabel had a rather self-satisfied look on her face, her sister didn't look like she was done. "One more thing," she said sweetly. Granted, her attempt at 'sweet' reminded me of black licorice that melted on a dirty sidewalk. "You should take the fee for the repair out of her salary." She pointed at the sales rep and the woman visibly looked ready to faint. "It's only fair."

The manager hesitated for a second before he nodded. "Of course-"

I'd had enough. With a funny little hop, I was over to the group in seconds. "Excuse me," I called out. I flashed a smile- hopefully not looking super awkward. "Yeah, hi, I was just over there and saw the whole thing. She-" I pointed to the sales rep, "Did not try to sell them a damaged dress. They-" I pointed to the two sisters who were giving me the evil eye. "Ripped it when she wasn't looking to try and get a discount."

I could tell I was the sales rep's new best friend. And that I was the Topham sisters' new worst enemy. "She's lying!" the short sister shouted. "I would never do something like that."

Figuring she'd say that, I grabbed her wrist- turning it to reveal some small blue strings of fabric on her palm. "You have some fabric on the hand you ripped it with," I provided fluidly. "And you'll see that there is also some on the floor by your feet. Not anywhere else on the floor- meaning that the dress was only ripped and losing threads right around here."

The girl jerked her hand back as her face went bright red. Her sister looked ready to bolt straight out the door. "I don't know who you think you are-"

"Given the evidence," the manager coughed, interrupting them. "I'm going to have to ask you pay for the full price of the dress you damaged."

The short sister looked like her face was going to explode. "I don't want it!" she shouted. Some other shoppers were starting to linger around the spectacle she was making the same way I had. And of course, the manager was quick to notice.

"I'm sorry, but you damaged the dress so you must buy it," he insisted. "And then I have to ask you to never set foot in my store again."

It seemed a little rash, but the short sister's reaction was worse. She straight up threw the dress onto the ground. "I won't buy that! You can't make me!" Then she stormed off- her sister trailing in her angry wake all the way to the door.

Once they were gone, the sales rep gave a sigh of relief. "I can't thank you enough," she told me. "The repair for that would have cut my pay more than half!"

I just stuck with smiling. "It's no problem," I assured her. "If anyone had been around to see how awful they were to you, they'd have done the same thing." That didn't seem to stop the sales rep from looking at me like I’d accessorized with a halo and matching wings that morning.

"Regardless," the manager spoke up, clearing his throat again. "We're still going to have to do something about this dress."

"Wait-" I reached forward a took a hold of the dress to take a look at the tab. "I'll take it."

The manager looked just as shocked as the sales rep did. "But it's damaged," the manager had to remind me.

"It's not too bad," I assured him. I touched some of the ruffles that the shorter Topham had ripped. "I could probably fix it myself."

"Well," the manager huffed. "At least let me give you a complimentary discount. Both for your help in exposing those two young ladies as crooks and for helping Loralei here."

I didn't argue. I just considered it a bonus. As Loralei rung me up with the 50% discount, I couldn't help, but poke my nose even further into other people's business. You know, as I'm wont to do. "Who were those girls anyway?" I asked. "I mean, did you know them?" I’d never seen them in school before over at River Heights High. After that display, I really didn’t want to.

I could tell by Loralei's face that she did. I could also tell she didn't really want to reveal that information. But I just waited patiently until she caved. Despite everything that had just happened, Loralei was still a sales rep- they loved to gossip about customers. "Those were the Tophams. They've been in here before. Ada and Isabel." Knowing that Isabel was the skinny one, I assumed Ada had to be the stout one. It was fitting because I had never heard of someone with a more unfortunate name. Very invocative of covered wagons and long trips overland with plenty of dysentery. "Don't get me wrong, they spend money when they're here so they're technically good customers. But what you just saw was pretty much the standard fare for dealing with those two."

I just nodded along like this was all news to me and I was a completely impartial party. "I think I heard them mention something about an... old man Crowley?" I had, in fact, heard that, but Loralei didn't need to know that.

At the mention of the name, her eyes went wide. "Oh, you're from around here, are you?" I nodded. "I’m from a town over- in Hayworth. It’s been the subject of debate around there for the last few months!" She paused to look around for other customers before leaning across the counter to elaborate. "See, Josiah Crowley was this eccentric old man who lived around here. He never really had a home- always stayed with relatives no matter how distant- but he was supposedly loaded up to the eyeballs. Well, the last family who got stuck with him was the Tophams- Richard and his wife Cora. And when Crowley passed away, they came forward with a will that gave all his properties, money, and stocks to them!" I made the appropriate face so that she knew I found this just as shocking as she did. "Normally, who cares about those sorts of things, but the Crowley will just struck so many people as strange. He wasn't really a big fan of the Tophams. Fact, they hated him up until they found out he was dying and they'd profit from it. But Crowley used to promise a lot of his other- much nicer- relatives that they'd live comfortably after his death." Loralei gave an unaffected shrug. "Those poor people will never see a dime. A few of them were even contesting the will."

"Really?" I didn't have to feign interest now. I was definitely interested in all this talk of a mysterious will. Hayworth was a little town off the side of a little town- that kind of drama was uncommon for such a sleepy place. And I could swear the name Crowley sounded familiar. Not just ‘two seconds ago when I asked about it’ familiar, but ‘I’ve heard it somewhere before, but didn’t pay too much attention to it’ familiar. "Do you think they stand a chance?"

Loralei gave me a level sort of look as the machine spat out a receipt. "I don't think so." She ripped the receipt off and handed it to me. My 'savings' happened to be in the triple digits and I was sure Bess would just love her new rehearsal dinner dress. "Crowley was a weirdo and not all there on a good day. Chances are, those Tophams coerced him into re-writing the will in their favor." She put a manicured finger to her lips. "But you didn't hear that from me."

I smiled back. "Of course not."


	2. Curiosity

After Loralei had thanked me another two times, I left the store and headed home for the day.

Isn’t that anyone’s favorite place to be? The place where you keep your stuff, your food, and your bed? Anyone who didn’t say otherwise was full of it or had some very unique circumstances where they had to redefine ‘home’. Home was where your heart is- whatever form home took. And the comfortable two story in the center of River Heights’s most suburban burb had been the Drew home for so long I could have a mind half a world a way and still find my way there easily enough. Which was exactly the case this time- my brain still chugging away at the puzzle presented by the Tophams and the mysterious will of Josiah Crowley.

That was sort of my thing: mysteries. Ask anyone.

When I arrived home even in my fugue state caused by ‘mind-elsewhere-itis’, it was the same old same old. The living room with the off-white-but-not-cream (Hannah hated cream) throw pillows, the coffee table with ring stains neither my father nor I would admit to causing, and the comfortable breeze brought in by the front windows Hannah always liked to keep open. And of course, there was the island in the kitchen that my dad liked to sit at with his papers and sip his coffee. I couldn't tell you what the papers said (since my father was well aware of how I like to go poking through things and always moved them when I tried), but they kept him busy enough. When I got back from shopping, he was frowning at a newspaper. "You'll never guess what happened to me today!" I opened with- shouting down the short gap of a hallway between the living room and kitchen.

Dad hardly looked up from his newspaper. "Bess called you, told you to do something, and then she hung up."

"Well." I stopped for a second. "Yeah, that did happen. But also, I ran into these two girls-"

“Nancy," Dad laughed. "I’d love to hear about it, but I'm very busy. And I have a feeling you just plan to shout this entire conversation. Which I feel like I’ve told you not to do."

"Okay, fine." I flopped down onto the couch in the living room. It was an incredibly cozy couch- I’d spent many a summer day sitting on it so much that Hannah complained that I was ‘becoming one with the furniture’. "But how much do you know about wills?"

"The wills and wiles of mankind?” Dad asked. That was my dad- straight out of ‘dad joke’ school. I was sure he took night classes in between his regular law classes while he was studying to become a criminal attorney. “A fine and terrible thing those can be.”

"No, no." I kicked my feet up on the ottoman- just for about as long as I could before the voice in the back of my head that sounded suspiciously like Hannah told me to take them off. Hannah was our live-in housekeeper slash local au pair slash the glue that held the Drew family together. When I was three, my mom died. And my dad- neck deep in starting his own law practice and stuck with a sniffly sneezy little brat (that’s me)- had panicked and put out a personal ad for a ‘nanny’. Cue Hannah Gruen. Or, as I liked to call her, Wonder Woman Meets Mary Poppins. Hannah was great. Even if she did have a tendency to nitpick my less ‘civil’ behavior like she’d fallen right out of the 1940s. I didn’t actually know how old Hannah was (she’d never tell us- that was one mystery I could never solve), so that might have been an accurate guess. "I mean like inheritance. A will that's read when you die." Dad finally looked up from his newspaper. "Apparently, there's been some discussion in Hayworth recently about an old rich man's will. He'd given everything to a family no one likes and some of his relatives were trying to contest it."

"Well, they're going to have a difficult time," Dad hummed. "A will is final once it's witnessed. It acts as a final contract for the deceased. You can contest it, but most people only do that when they think it's been read wrong."

"Are wills public record?" I blurted out.

It wasn't a good move. I got _that_ look again. The arched eyebrow ‘I know what you’re up to since I’ve been around you the past sixteen years of your life’ look. "Nancy."

"Carson," I threw right back at him. I wasn't very good at 'the tone', but I was getting in a lot of practice. Hannah liked to say sarcasm and the ability to talk back to superiors was either a metric for potential or foreshadowing to how fast I would land myself in jail once I could no longer be legally protected as a minor. I tended to favor the first explanation. "I just think it’s interesting. Maybe this will really was read wrong. Maybe the people who it benefits are just trying to keep that a secret so no one else gets the money they think is theirs?"

"While that may be true, it's none of your business," Dad insisted. "Besides, you have that rehearsal dinner to focus on. And wasn’t there a discussion I distinctly remember having about a summer job, young lady?"

“I’m working on it,” I said.

“Huh. Like I haven’t heard that one before.” Just as he went back to his newspaper, I stuck my tongue out at him. It was an immature move, but a satisfying one. For all of about three seconds. "I saw that."

In lieu of that failure, I took Dad's advice and minded my business. It lasted about as long as a commercial on TV for spray soap. And then I was taking out my phone to try to Google 'Josiah Crowley'. It wasn't my favorite tactic of nosing in new things that caught my interest, but it was the best I could do with my dad sitting so close to the door. I don’t know why he wasn’t in his study- probably just to make things more difficult for me. If I went out again after I'd just come home, he'd get curious. And since I'd talked so much about the will and the story surrounding it, he'd immediately know what I was up to. Granted, I didn't even know what I was up to yet. Or at least, I wasn't until I happened to glance over between the doorways and see something on the newspaper Dad was holding up. I squinted at it- the exact way Hannah and my dad always said would ruin my eyes.

"Hey!" Dad moved to pull the newspaper down, but I practically snatched it out of his hand to keep it upright after flinging myself off the couch and into the kitchen. "Look at that! The contesting of Josiah Crowley's will is in the newspaper!" I made a face at the paper. “By the way, Dad, who reads newspapers anymore? Seriously?”

Dad ignored my comment and only glanced at the article I had my thumb over. "Looks like Henry Rolsted was asked for comment."

I couldn't help the smile that came to my face. "Who's Henry Rolsted?"

Dad gave me another one of his 'looks'. I responded with another one of mine. I was actually pretty surprised when he caved with an audible sigh. "If you must know, he's a local attorney." I waited for the 'and'. "He specializes in inheritance law and wills."

"Dad-"

"Nancy, no," he cut me off. "I'm not going to let you bother this poor man just so you can go nosing around in business that isn't yours." An eyebrow went up. “Despite it being your specialty.”

“Haven’t you always told me that an inquisitive mind is a learning mind?”

Dad laughed at that one. “Don’t try to use my own words against me,” he said. He grabbed his newspaper back from me. I was prepared to launch another grandpa joke at him, but he talked first. “And this isn’t lost pets or misplaced car keys, Nancy. It’s a delicate matter for a family in mourning. After all, someone they loved just passed away.”

"Aw, okay." Seemingly satisfied with my acquiescence, Dad went back to his paper and I went back to the TV. I managed to sit down just in time for another spray soap commercial.

What a perfect comment on how boring my summer was going to be.


	3. Hope

The next day, Dad made us go out to lunch. I wasn't sure why he wanted to go out to eat, but as usual I humored him. Not like I was doing anything super important, anyway.

He picked where we went and I got to eat whatever I wanted because he was paying. This time around, we went to a restaurant connected to a hotel- the Royal- and I ordered a salad and chicken. "Not every restaurant meal in the world has to be chicken tenders," Dad insisted like he always did after he heard my order of entree. “You can expand your tastes, kiddo.”

"Just because it sounds vaguely like a chicken tender on the menu doesn’t mean it’s actually a chicken tender,” I argued.

The waitress came by with our plates. “And here are the chicken tenders for you,” she said as she put the plate down in front of me. “And a salad.”

If my dad shot me a look at that, I was way too busy eating my chicken tenders to notice.

Two minutes into eating I noticed Dad’s gaze drifting off to the side. Out of curiosity, I turned to see exactly what he was looking at. I didn't expect to see a somewhat short, brown-haired man with glasses and a crinkled tan suit. "Do you know him?" I blurted out.

Before my dad could answer, the man seemed to notice us. With a friendly wave and a smile, he wandered over from where he was waiting at the bar to where we sat near the wall. "Carson Drew! What’re you doing here?" he greeted pleasantly.

Dad waited a terribly long moment before he answered him- the smile on his face friendly if not a little forced. That was suspicious for him and I was sure he knew it. "Rolsted." While I could tell my face lit up like a lamp, I was pretty sure I could see my dad dying inside.

Henry Rolsted nodded to the acknowledgement. Then he noticed me. "And who is this beautiful young lady?"

Dad looked the usual mixture of proud and a little worried when older men said things like that. On one hand, he was 50% of my genetic code, so that was an indirect compliment to him. On the other, he put creeps in jail all day- he had a good foundation of caution. "This my daughter, Nancy."

“Oh, really?” Rolsted asked. “My, the last time I saw you you must have been about as high as my knee. You sure have grown.”

I avoided the urge to respond with ‘I’ve heard children do that’. Instead, I picked something else to say. "We were just talking about you the other day, Mr. Rolsted."

He looked surprised. "You were?"

Dad shot me a warning glance that I pretended I didn't see. "Yes, we were talking about the Crowley case and my dad mentioned you specialize in wills and inheritance law."

"The Crowley case?" Rolsted frowned. "Why on Earth would you be talking about that?"

"We saw it in the newspaper," I supplied. "And I just found it very interesting." I tried to smile- looking as innocent as possible. Hannah frequently told me I wasn’t very good at it, but what did she know. "Didn't they ask you for a comment about it, Mr. Rolsted? You must be following it closely."

"Yes, well." He cleared his throat- fidgeting slightly. "I have been despite not being officially on the case. Personal interest. But I hardly think something like that would be of interest to a girl your age, Miss Drew."

Now Dad made the same face he usually did when men talked down to me. It was very similar to someone who’s microwave broke for the sixth time in one week. "I was interested as well," he chimed in. "It seems very strange that the relatives would try contesting it."

"That may have been my fault," Rolsted sighed. "I gave them false hope."

"False hope?" I echoed, trying to get him to elaborate.

Rolsted held up his hands in a gesture of surrender. "I just mentioned to them that I had met with Mr. Crowley before his death and he'd had a lot of questions. Mostly about how to verify a will. In my professional opinion, I'd thought he was writing a second one. But I know I'm wrong now."

"He was asking about a second will?" I pressed. I could practically hear the gears in my brain turning. A second will was a big deal- especially if it cancelled the first. "Did you ever help him write one?"

"No." Rolsted fiddled with his jacket sleeve. "He simply came in to meet with me, asked plenty of questions, and took notes. He never came back with a copy to officiate."

"You wouldn't need a lawyer to officiate a will when it's made," Dad pointed out. I wasn't sure if he was speaking for my sake or to Rolsted. "Only a witness is needed when it's written."

"Right." Rolsted looked troubled. "So, for a second there, I thought maybe he'd-" He stopped himself and shook his head. "Well, I was wrong. Taught me not to make assumptions. Crowley always was a bit erratic." Rolsted checked his watch. "I'm afraid I have to go. It was nice seeing you both."

Dad and I both said our good-byes and watched Rolsted hustle toward the door with his short legs. As soon as he was out of sight, I couldn't contain my enthusiasm. "Did you hear that? There's a second will!"

"He said there was not, if you’d been paying attention," Dad said. He frowned into his water glass. "He just made it painfully clear he was wrong." He gave me that 'look' again. "Please drop it, Nance.”

"No." Dad seemed more tired than upset by my flat-out refusal. "I have a hunch that there is a second will and I'm not just going to ignore it."

"So, what exactly do you plan to do?" Dad asked with a sigh. He always did that when I had one of my hunches. Mostly because he knew they were always right, but he wasn’t too thrilled about the prospect of me getting myself into trouble.

"Well, for starters-" Back to smiling innocently again, "I'm going to talk to the relatives who filed to break the will."

Dad arched an eyebrow. “I won’t stop you,” he said. “But you’re going to have to tell me how that one goes.”

“It’ll go _amazing_ ,” I insisted.

“Sure, pumpkin. Just eat your chicken tenders before they get cold.”

And I did. But not because he told me to or anything.


	4. Visit

I had a plan.

Maybe not much of a plan, but it was a plan. And the first part of the plan was to find out _who_ was contesting the will in the first place.

My task was easier said than done, as it turned out. Apparently, a stranger couldn't just look up those sorts of things about a civil suit. And while I knew that, I still maintain that the girl behind the counter at the court offices didn't have to be so nasty about it.

Defeated, I went home just to find Dad waiting with an errand for me. "What is this?" I had to ask as he held a manila envelope toward me. We had a brief conversation about my adventures at the court. It basically went ‘how did it go’ (my dad) and ‘it didn’t’ (me).

"Some court papers for a case I’m covering," Dad said. "If you would, can you deliver them to the judge's house in Hayworth?”

“I guess,” I sighed. Might as well do something useful today. Helping my dad always made me feel productive, at least. Even if one time he just made me sort paperclips by color in his office once. In his defense, I was six.

Dad smiled. “Great. But make sure you come straight home. There's a storm coming that might wash out the roads out where the judge lives. It’s all dirt out there.”

"I know how to drive," I pointed out.

"You are still learning," Dad emphasized. I tried not to roll my eyes. Even if this was technically the first few months I had my official permit to drive a car, I'd been practicing for years thank to all the quote unquote irresponsible adults who'd let me sit behind the wheel since the tender age of twelve. I was an extremely skilled driver, thank you very much. Or at least, I hadn't driven myself off a cliff yet. "I'm trusting you with this, Nancy. And not just the papers, but yourself, too."

"Yeah, yeah." I snatched the keys and the envelope he offered and made a big show as I grabbed my purse and left. I'm sure Dad didn't care, either way. "Big storm later," I grumbled as I made my way over to the dingy old roadster Dad had specifically picked up at either a junk yard or a used car lot for me to practice driving in. It was crap, but it was technically mine. Before I slipped into the driver's seat, I shaded my eyes with my hand and glanced up at the sky. Not a cloud in sight. "Big storm my ass."

Once I set out on the road, the ride was pleasant. The radio was playing okay music, the roads weren't terribly cramped, and I only got distracted by things on the roadside once or twice. That's always been my problem with driving- not so good at the focus. But I still managed to make it to the judge's house from the address on Dad's envelope without swerving into anything. The house was nice- a two-story red brick set-up with kid's toys scattered on the front lawn. It was like the house was saying 'I am wealthy, but I'm not a dick about it'. Either way, I felt comfortable jogging up the front steps to knock on the door.

It was eventually answered by a short woman with dark hair and a flour-covered apron. "Oh, hello," she greeted me pleasantly. Clearly, she had no idea who I was, but she was trying to be polite about it. "Can I help you?"

"Actually, I'm here to help you," I couldn't resist saying. With a smile, I handed her the envelope. "Delivery."

"Oh." The woman peered at the papers and said 'oh' again when she recognized them. "John told me to look out for these. You must be Nancy, then. Come on inside, dear. You can hand those to John yourself."

"I'd never pass up the opportunity to say delivery twice in one day," I joked as I followed the woman inside. The house was comfortable, understandably cluttered, and had pictures hanging on most every wall. Not being much of a pictures-on-every-wall type myself, I didn't bother to look at any of them. The woman led me into a living room where a man sat on a recliner reading a newspaper while two young boys were enraptured by the TV playing in front of them.

"John," the woman called.

"Yes, Mary?"

"A young lady is here with some files for you," Mary explained. Her husband, John, looked up at that- frowning slightly when his eyes fell on me. Admittedly, I wasn't dressed like a secretary or messenger. You've probably never gotten important files from a girl in jeans and a t-shirt. But after a minute, Judge John seemed to recognize me.

"Ah, Nancy!" he said rather loudly while he got up from his chair. "Carson had called me and said you'd be coming. Blasted farm town has no post in it. Nothing reliable, anyway. Sorry to make you drive out all this way."

"It's fine," I said. I handed him the manila folder and he was quick to take it. "It's no trouble for me at all."

"Oh, of course not," Mary gushed. "Your father speaks so highly of you, dear. We're just delighted to finally meet you." I didn't question that. Usually Dad met with a lot of people and mentioned me without me knowing. He never played sports in high school, so most of the stuff he could brag about was me. Usually, I'm fine with the compliment. Mary suddenly lit up. "Oh, we were just about to have lunch. You should stay and join us."

"I don't know-"

"Nonsense, dear," Mary said in a way that pretty much sealed the deal. I would be staying for lunch- no if's, and's or, but's about it. There was something about middle aged suburban moms that forced complete acquiescence. Of course, since I didn't have anything better to do, I suppose I couldn't complain that I got to sit down for some sandwiches and egg salad. I don't like egg salad- something about it just seems morally wrong- but the sandwich was okay. And the conversation was even enlightening. "Josiah Crowley?" Mary echoed after I'd brought up the name in an attempt to answer the question about my recent going-abouts. Don't ask me how I'd squeezed the topic in there, but I did. "I actually think I saw him on our side of town just a week before he passed. He looked perfectly fine to me. His death was so sudden."

Her husband looked alarmed. "You must be mistaken, Mary," he said lightly. "Why on earth would Josiah Crowley be in Hayworth? I can't imagine him having any business here."

"Well, he must have," Mary said, undeterred. "Because I wouldn't mistake that strange old man for anyone else." She waved her hand at me. "He would never wear one suit jacket. He'd buy two or three he'd like and then have the tailor patch it all together. Then he'd walked around in that awful, gaudy thing."

"That's very interesting," I noted. It was, but it wasn't relevant to the will. Unless he'd hidden it in the pocket of one of his jackets. "Did he have relatives around here? Maybe that was why he was in town."

"Come to think of it," Judge John mulled. "There were two young nieces of his he always came out to see. But they're down the road quite a ways- on an old chicken farm their folks used to own off Oak River Road." He shook his head. "But those two hardly come into town, either."

"That's not true, dear," Mary corrected him lightly. "The older one- Grace- she comes into town from time to time to deliver her orders. She's a dressmaker."

I blinked. "Sounds like an old-fashioned way of getting by." Turning my attention to the judge, I tried to catch him mid-thought. "Do they share the name Crowley?"

It wasn't the best approach, but it worked. "Oh no," the judge insisted. "No, they've got the last name... Hoover or Horner or something." He turned back to his wife. "We knew their parents, didn't we?"

"A long time ago," Mary nodded while scooping more egg salad onto her children's plates. The fact that they were eating it made me question if they were even children. "But it's been so long since those girls have been on their own." She frowned. "I always feel awful when I think how we never kept in touch."

"Nothing to be done, Mary," Judge John assured her with a pat to her hand. "Now, let's change the subject. I'm sure Nancy doesn't care for all this idle gossip." We talked about the weather, my job hunt, and even some of the judge's recent cases. It was all very light and casual conversation that lasted up until we'd officially finished lunch and I was on my way out the door. "Thanks again for stopping by," the judge said as he and his wife saw me out. "Tell your father I'll contact him with the details he needs before the trial."

"And drive home safe, dear," Mary added. "There's supposed to be a storm."

"I've heard that," I managed to laugh. "And I'll let my dad know. Thank you for lunch." A few more good-byes and polite farewells and then I was finally back out on the road. I drove down the same main street that I'd taken to get into the suburbs of Hayworth, but I turned right as soon as I saw trees. Knowing my sense of direction had never failed me before, I kept driving around until I saw Oak River Road printed on a wooden sign. "Aha!"

Triumphant, I turned onto the dirt road and started off- hoping to see a building that may or may not be a chicken farm. It wasn't the best manner of finding my way to the Hoover/Horner farm, but it was the only lead I had. Driving down Oak River Road was pure torture. Not only were actual houses so few and far in-between that I could take a twenty-minute nap before finding two of them, most were either hidden by trees or looked plain abandoned. I was nearly ready to call it quits- go back and try a different approach- when I heard a soft 'plunk'.

Honestly, I thought it was a tree branch. Brushing against the roof of the car or falling off a tree above me. But then there was another plunk. And another and another. Pine needles, I thought. I was being rained down upon by pine needles. But then it occurred to me that I was being rained down upon by actual rain.

"What do you know? It actually did rain." I kept driving- eventually having to lean forward across the steering wheel to even see through the rain pelting the windshield. The rain was coming down in _sheets_ \- the low rumble of occasional thunder just accompanying it sounding like a warning of more to come. I wasn't deterred in the least. Rain was just a lot of water and I wasn't exactly driving a convertible, so I was nice and dry.

A couple more careful feet down the road just driving by headlights and the car suddenly jolted to stop. When I pressed the accelerator, willing it to go forward, I could hear the awful screeching sound of a tire running without traction. Since I couldn't see through the rain still assaulting the window, I risked rolling it down and poking my head out the window. It definitely wasn't an improvement- the rain was coming down hard enough to make keeping your eyes open tricky- but I could see what the problem was. "Oh, come on."

I was stuck in the mud. Unfortunately, I'd completely forgotten that you can't take a car without four wheel drive down a dirt road in a storm without the risk of this exact thing happening. And to make matters worse, I'd stopped right before a part in the road that was completely flooded. I wasn't sure if I'd just driven onto the shore of a very small inland lake or if that really was supposed to be road, but I was still thoroughly stuck both backwards and forwards.

Sealing the window back up, I tried to shake as much rainwater out of my hair as I could before I fetched my phone from my purse. I had my thumb hovering over the dial button when something occurred to me. "I can't call Dad." He'd kill me. Or just tease me about this for the rest of my life. Hey Nancy, remember that time you idiotically tried to drive on a dirt road in the middle of the storm? Because I'll never let you forget it. 

And while it wasn't the smartest idea in the world to spare safety over embarrassment, I reasoned that a little rain couldn't kill me and that the road was clear just a few feet beyond the mini lake. I could take off my sandals, trudge through the muck, find a farmhouse to wait out the storm in, and then make my way back to get my car unstuck and take the clearest path I could back home. I would be a little wet, but no worse for the wear. And if anything, the car would get a little bit of a wash.

Without giving myself a minute to second-guess, I grabbed my phone and wallet from my purse- tucked both into the safest and driest part of my jeans- and headed out to start walking.


	5. Sisters

One thing that I learned on my long walk along Oak River Road is that I should always second-guess myself.

If I ever had an idea ever again, I told myself I would need to run it past about six logic tests before I embarked. I also learned that the mini-lake wasn't the only one, that farmhouses are far too set apart for their own good, and that mud between your toes only feels good for about three whole seconds. At one point, I walked past a sign that said 'Road May Flood During Heavy Rain' and yelled "no shit!" so loudly I startled a squirrel right out of a tree.

But after trudging through the never-ending mud hell in the pouring rain for what felt like an hour, I finally saw a mailbox. I didn't hesitate to pick up my pace- nearly running as I headed up a gravel drive and toward what I could only guess was a barn. I didn't care if it were full of smelly cows- it was a place with a roof and a roof meant _dry_. Though at this point, I was so soaked and covered in mud you could hold up a picture of Swamp Thing next to me and no one could tell the difference. Through the open barn doors I went- shivering and shaking like a tambourine the whole time. I was just past the door and busy trying to get the water out of my ears when I heard a 'thunk'.

"Hello?" I called out into the emptiness of the barn. No smelly cows like I'd guessed and not even any old farm equipment sitting there rusting. It was just empty- the foundation of the barn creaking and groaning under the onslaught of wind and rain like even that was too much for the old building. Holes in the roof caused puddles to form every foot or so and I carefully stepped over them as I moved deeper into the barn. "Hello?" I tried again. "Sorry for barging in on you like this, but the storm flooded the roads and I-" Another 'thunk'- this time from behind me. I whirled around just quick enough to see the edge of a hay bale quivering. Very cautiously, I stepped toward it. Three steps away and I put my arm out to drag it away if I needed to get behind it. Within arm's reach and my fingers barely touched a piece of straw sticking out and-

"AH!"

"Jesus!" I cursed, reeling back so fast I almost landed on my ass in a puddle. "You scared me!"

The girl who had, in fact, scared me was just a bit younger than I was. Her brown hair was pulled into practical pigtails, freckles dotted her nose and cheeks, and she wore torn up overalls over a too-big plaid shirt. "I scared you?" she laughed at me. "You scared me first! Charging into my barn like that- how was I supposed to know you weren't some kind of thief?"

"Sorry about that." I flipped some of my damp hair out of my eyes. "The storm washed out the road and my car is sort of stuck. This was the closest thing I could find for shelter." I stuck my hand out again- this time in greeting. "I'm Nancy Drew, by the way. Normally I don't go breaking into people's barns."

The girl seemed to appreciate my joke. "I'm Ally Horner. And normally I don't go scaring the daylights out of perfect strangers." I spared her a laugh, but I was more focused on her name. Hannah always did say I have an impossible sort of luck. But who knew I'd find the Horners after all? Especially by pure accident. "No offense, but you look like a wet rat. The house is over there and I'm sure my sister Grace would be real upset with me if I didn't offer you someplace drier to hang out than this stinky barn."

"No offense taken," I sighed. Even if the barn was out of the rain, I was still freezing. "And much appreciated if you would."

Together, Ally and I made a dash for the house just a few feet away. Unlike the barn, it was more maintained, but in the rain it looked a little washed out. From what I could see, a shingle on one wall was hanging crooked and the gutter was spewing rain in a way that gutters were probably not supposed to do. The inside had a very similar vibe- things looked neat and nice, but you could tell it was with effort or a means to distract from the general shoddiness of the house. One of those old-fashioned mitten holders sat crooked on the landing and packed full of what looked a lot like old umbrellas. I couldn't figure out why someone would keep so many umbrellas before a woman's voice came from within the house. "Ally!" it called, sounding slightly irate. "You little brat! I swear, if you're dripping water all over the- oh!"

"Hi," I greeted the woman who'd been shouting just as she stopped in the door at the sight of me. Barely a woman, I noted as I rung out my hair. She was maybe older than Ally and I by a good five years, but that had to be the max. Overall, she looked like an older, more serious, and much more tired version of Ally. "You must be Grace?"

I extended a hand in greeting, but Grace just looked shell-shocked. "Gracie," Ally sing-songed, snapping her out of her trance. "Nancy's car got stuck in the mud down the road."

And that seemed to jump-start the older girl. "Oh, you poor thing!" Grace started with in a rush. "Come in, come in- Ally, get a towel from the linen closet. In the kitchen- here, here!" And while I had to wonder how badly my soaking wet self was damaging the wooden floors of their rather neat kitchen, Ally didn't seem too concerned as she sloshed into the carpeted hallway I had to assume led to the living room/den area. When Grace finally paused to take a breather, she grabbed my hand from my lap to shake it. "And yes, I am Grace Horner. You've already met my sister Ally." At that moment, Ally returned with a towel. I started to gently towel at my hair. "Oh, you're absolutely soaked," Grace fretted after I'd managed to soak the towel through with only one squeeze of my wet mess of hair. I never kept it very long- just above my shoulders, usually-, but it soaked up water like a sponge. "You should probably just change out of those clothes."

I blinked. "I didn't bring any spare clothes." I thought that part was obvious.

But Grace didn't seem concerned. "Ally, go and grab one of my dresses from my room. I'm sure it'll fit Nancy." She pointed at me suddenly. She had a rather stern, motherly way about her despite being barely older than I was. It was the kind of attitude that came with practice. "You can take a shower and change."

"Sure," I agreed. Mostly because I didn't think Grace would take a 'no I'd rather sit here like a wet sock' for an answer and also because a hot shower sounded absolutely amazing. It hadn't been cold out, really, but the minute I'd stepped into the house, the rain on my skin had decided to suck up all the heat out of me. I tried not to openly shiver as Ally- at Grace's order- led me to the bathroom tucked away in the back.

"Water doesn't run too hot, but it'll be hot enough for your purposes," she shrugged as she chucked my borrowed clothes and a towel onto the counter-top. "Need anything just holler."

I didn't say anything else besides a 'thanks' before Ally wandered off and left me to my own devices. Peeling off my clothes and underwear was a nightmare I'd rather not relive (especially when I realized I would need to dry out my underwear as much as possible because it wasn't like I'd be borrowing _that_ from the Horner sisters), but the shower was heavenly. Not quite as hot as I'd like, as Ally warned, but it was still nice to chase off the cold water with the warm. Outside of the shower, I dried off and redressed quickly- it being awkward enough that I showed up in some stranger's house in the middle of the storm. Grace's dress was a little loose where it shouldn't have been and tight where it mattered, but it was dry. Finding my way back out in the hall, I wandered into the living room looking for any sign of the sisters. From what I could tell, no one else lived in the house- as the judge and his wife had said- and it was still a little cramped. Pictures decorated the fireplace and mantle depicting Grace and Ally at various ages with various people. I had to guess the two most frequent- a dark-haired man and a blonde, happy-looking woman- were their parents.

I was in the middle of squinting at one picture with a gray-haired fellow sandwiched between the two girls when Grace came into the room carrying what I had to assume were Ally's wet clothes. "Ah, you look much better!" she said as soon as she saw me. "No offense."

"None taken," I spared a laugh. I gestured vaguely to the photo behind me. "You have some really lovely pictures here of you and your sister."

For a split second, Grace's expression was sad. "Thank you," she said politely. "Though I suppose those do nothing except collect dust." Suddenly, Grace changed the subject. "Did you leave your clothes in the bathroom? I'd like to hang it up to dry."

"Yes." I didn't question where she would hang them up- just trusted she would know that about her own house. Since it was clearly strange of me to stand around in the living room, I walked into the kitchen and found Ally poking at a rather flat-looking cake. "What kind of cake is that?"

"Shortcake," Ally said matter-of-factly. "But also birthday cake." She gestured toward the doorway. "Today's Gracie's 19th."

I tried not to look surprised at her age. I'd been way off in my earlier assumption. "Whoops, I forgot to bring a present," I joked as I took a seat. Ally grinned at me in her carefree, youthful way. It might have been the pigtails, but she reminded me of some sort of preteen tomboy from an old movie taking place near a river. "Have you two lived out here long?"

"Our whole lives," Ally responded to my attempt to make conversation. "'Fact, when our parents passed away, the state tried to make us move to a girls' home, but we'd been living here so long that we were able to argue that we should stay." She shrugged. "And then Grace turned 18 so it didn't matter."

"I'm sorry to hear about your parents," I said politely. "I saw plenty of pictures of them in the other room. They seemed like lovely people."

"Yeah, they were great," Ally said- still dejectedly poking at the cake. "But poor as dirt."

I didn't quite know what to say to that, so I just remained silent well until Grace bustled into the room. "Ally, stop poking that," she insisted almost automatically. "Nancy, your clothes are set to dry, but I suppose it should take a good hour. We don't have a dryer, but the line will do just as good. And the rain should clear up by then." She paused in the middle of bustling around the kitchen- organizing things as she went. "Do you need to use the phone to call someone? You know, to come get your car?"

"Oh no, I have my cell phone," I assured her. "Plus, I'll just wait until the rain stops and then go and get it out of the mud myself."

At that, Grace looked confused. "You don't need a tow truck or anything?" she asked.

"I'm pretty strong," I told her. “I can probably just shove it out of the mud myself.” It wasn't bragging, but Ally looked impressed. Grace, on the other hand, looked concerned.

"What were you doing all the way out here, if you don't mind me asking?" Grace asked while she finally picked up the cake and moved it from Ally's reach.

"Just driving through," I fibbed. It probably wouldn't make any sense for me to start talking about Josiah Crowley all of a sudden. "I was on my way back from lunch with the judge and his wife in Hayworth. Must have taken the wrong turn."

"Oh, Judge John and his wife are very nice people," Grace said pleasantly. She paused. "Of course, we haven't talked to them in a while, have we?"

"Nope," Ally added lightly. She looked rather bored in her chair. I got the feeling she was the kind of person who liked to be outside and got restless when they couldn't do that.

"I think they mentioned you," I said. "Something about you being a dressmaker, Grace?"

"It's just something that pays the bills," Grace admitted. "I like sewing."

I didn't have to look around the kitchen again or at the sort of sad excuse for a birthday cake to know what I wanted to do next. "Well, that's very fortunate. I was looking to have a dress made recently." Grace looked surprised and I couldn't blame her. "See, I wanted something with a certain neckline for a wedding I have to go to and I just can't find it in stores. Maybe you can help me."

"Um," was Grace's first response. Then she brightened somewhat. "I mean, sure. I suppose I could do that. I don't have any other orders lined up so-"

"Grace will make you the best dress, Nancy," Ally boasted. "People usually just ask her to do tailoring and repairs and whatever, but her designs are super good."

"Ally," Grace chided her sister. She went to stand up from her chair at the kitchen. "Since we have the time, I can do your measurements-"

"Oh no, not right now," I insisted. "It's your birthday today. I'll come back tomorrow for that." Besides, I reasoned with myself. This gave me an excuse to come back to see the sisters again and ask about Josiah Crowley. Plus, I could always use a new dress. I had about three that I wore to special events- two of which were high school homecomings and I was sure Bess would murder me if I wore that to the wedding. "Did you need help frosting the cake?" I asked, trying to stay focused on the birthday angle.

"Oh." Grace looked at the cake rather blankly. "No, we were just going to eat it like this."

"That works," I insisted, trying to stay positive. "Frosting is so complicated, anyway."

"It doesn't even need frosting!" Ally claimed excitedly. She looked at me with a lopsided smile. "Gracie makes the best shortcakes. And it helps that the eggs come from my chickens. Because-"

"Let me guess," I interrupted with a laugh. "You raise the best chickens?" Ally was delighted that I'd gotten her joke- telling me all about the types of chickens she raised. Never in my life had I heard someone talk so passionately about leghorn chickens, but never in my life had I met someone like Ally. "I don't know much about chickens," I admitted once Ally started in on things called chicken shows. "I think I met a horse once at a petting zoo when I was a kid and I started crying when it looked at me too long."

But my attempt at a joke didn't seem to curb Ally's enthusiasm. "Horses are so cool!" she said with bright eyes. "I wish we could keep horses! And cows and sheep and all other types of animals. But we couldn't afford it even when mom and dad were alive." Ally's expression suddenly became rather serious. "'Course, Uncle Josiah always said-"

"Shh, Ally," Grace cut in. And no, not ‘shh’, I wanted to say. Because there was no doubt in my mind that Ally was just about to say something about Josiah Crowley. But Grace's expression was solemn enough that Ally snapped her mouth shut and kept it shut. Then, Grace offered me a rather pleasant smile. "Nancy, I know this is a little strange, but I'd like it very much if you joined us for my birthday. After all, birthdays are meant to be shared. And your clothes aren't drying any time soon..."

"I'd love to," I said before she could add yet another reason I should stick around. "And lucky for you guys, I'm a pretty excellent singer-" Without any more talk of chickens or Crowley, we launched into singing 'happy birthday' to Grace. She seemed delighted by the attention- seemingly even happier to cut into the cake and share it with us. Ally had been right about one thing- Grace's shortcake was amazing. I was pretty sure the definition of a shortcake was 'short on flavor, caked with dryness', but Grace must have used some sort of witchcraft to produce her birthday cake. I actually ate two slices at Ally's insistence.

She was right about one thing: the cake didn’t need frosting to be delicious. But if Josiah Crowley’s second will might give the Horner sisters something as simple as the _option_ of frosting, it just made me want to find out if it were real or not twice as much.


	6. Hunch

After cake and conversation, I didn't hang out for long.

While Grace and Ally were easy to get along with, I had to keep an eye on the clock. If I didn't show up before the sun went down, Dad would send out a search party. Or Hannah would send out a league of assassins to kill me for being late. You could never know with those two.

Grace gave me back my clothes, I set an appointment for the next day to have my measurements done, and Ally came with me down the road to offer help with my car. I didn't need it, actually, but Ally seemed impressed when I managed to push the car out of the mud in one attempt. It was a stroke of pure luck- my car didn’t even get stuck that deep. But I could and would boast about that to anyone with ears for the next few weeks.

I took the roads a little too fast in an attempt to get home quickly. And while the rain may have deluged the car clean, my race car stunt work splattered enough mud on the sides that it was twice as filthy as when I'd left with it. So, it didn’t surprise me at all when I walked into the house and Dad hardly looked up from his book. "You got caught in the rain, didn't you?"

"No," I shot back in the tone of someone who clearly had. If my lateness wasn't indication enough, the mess formerly known as my hair was the final nail in the coffin. My hair was bad on a good day and pure hell on a rainy one. Still, Dad didn't outright laugh. Clearly had to stop himself from doing it, but the effort was there. "I was arranging to have a dress made. For Lau- Lily’s wedding."

Dad arched an eyebrow. "They have stores for that, you know."

"Well, yeah." I tried to keep my face completely innocent. "But I wanted one with this special neckline-" Dad’s eyebrow didn’t go down and I caved. I dropped the act with a visible slouch of my shoulders. "I found one of the Crowley relatives," I admitted.

"Nancy-"

"But it was completely by accident." Not a total lie. And judging from Dad’s face he knew this. I could see a frown coming on, though. "Sort of by accident." I had to admire the man's ability to perfectly imitate a drill with his eyes. His gaze bored into me like I was bedrock. "The Judge mentioned that he had two nieces named the Horners and I found their chicken farm and stayed with them until the rain stopped."

Dad was silent for all of three seconds. "And I presume one of them is making you a dress?" I just nodded. "How can you even be sure they're the right relatives?"

"Well, I have a hunch-" Dad just held up a single hand- the universal sign of 'I don't want to hear it'.

"You ought to be careful, Nance." I could feel my shoulders visibly sink. I hated the 'be careful' lecture. It was almost as bad as the 'stop putting the fork in the toaster to get your toast out' lecture. "The Tophams are not going to be happy knowing someone is going around trying to prove they committed fraud." Dad shot me a sharp enough look to slice bread. The man might have owned way too many golf shorts for someone who didn’t golf, but he was also one of the best criminal attorneys in the Midwest. "So, I expect you to make sure that the Horners are the right relatives before you pursue this."

For a second, I stood there and just processed what he said. Because, really, it sounded like Dad was _supporting_ my nosiness. Which almost never happened. I couldn't ask him what he meant exactly before he got up and left the room with his book- off to read it in another part of the house or just to be dramatic.

Once he was gone, I sat down on the couch and mulled. Over how I would broach the subject of Josiah Crowley with the Horner sisters tomorrow. Over what I would even _do_ with that information once I had it. There was a lot to consider and I was almost afraid to check with Dad to see what he would suggest. Admittedly, while I was always good at digging up facts and making connections, it was a lot like a mouse in a maze. I could make the inferences and get the cheese, but I was still only a 16-year-old girl with limited knowledge of criminal law and the world, essentially. Dad was right- this wasn’t missing car keys or lost pets. I was a kid, not a hard-nosed detective. "Either way," I sighed aloud- part of a bad habit I had of talking to myself. "No use worrying about it until tomorrow."

So that's exactly what I did. I watched some TV, I did some reading, and I even pawed through some fashion magazines Bess left at my house looking up some dress designs I could ask Grace to replicate for our appointment the next day. Dad didn't resurface from his office and I didn't really mind. We ate dinner and breakfast separately- what always tended to happen when Hannah was on vacation and we had to feed ourselves- and I set off just as soon as it seemed reasonable in the morning. The road to the Horner farm was a lot easier to travel when it wasn't flooded or more mud than road. So, I arrived about thirty minutes early. Ally was out in the yard- in a small pen surrounded by clucking white chickens. She lit up when she saw me get out of my car.

"Hey, you're here!"

"Of course." I shifted my purse over my shoulder. I'd gone with a simple shorts and t-shirt for an outfit today. I wasn't sure what one wore to a dress fitting. Or, at least, I was pretty sure you didn’t show up in your underwear. "I have an appointment, don't I?" I pretended to glance at my phone and notice the time. "Except I'm a little early. If Grace has someone else she's seeing, I can wait-"

"Nah," Ally dismissed quickly. "Just go inside. Grace hasn't been doing anything important all day." And if I looked skeptical to do that, Ally just stepped over the pen fence and headed inside herself. I followed after her automatically and we both entered into the familiar front room- Ally shouting for Grace and announcing my presence.

"In here, Nancy!" Grace's familiar voice called back. I followed the sound of it into the living room and saw Grace standing there with a several bolts of fabric and a cloth ruler. "You're a little early. But just let me grab my scissors."

The next half an hour went by relatively quickly. I showed Grace pictures I'd taken of dresses I had in mind and she made some suggestions of her own- sketched out on paper- that I really liked. Ally sat cross-legged on the couch during the whole exchange- bickering with her sister and chatting with me and just making the whole experience rather enjoyable. I found I liked the Horner sisters. They were friendly and down-to-earth if not a little lonely. Of course, I didn't forget my mission. "Do you have relatives come to stay often?" I asked after Grace mentioned using the old guest room as a studio.

Grace laughed at my question while she threaded some fabric. She would apparently put together a rough mock-up of the dress and sew it all together tonight- letting me pick it up by the end of tomorrow at the least. "We don't have any relatives to speak of," she explained. "Maybe some distant cousins and all that. But they certainly don't come out to see us." Grace had a funny way of talking, I noticed. Like an affectation a kid puts on to sound more like an adult.

"That's not true," Ally protested from her spot on the couch. "Uncle Josiah used to visit all the time."

For a moment, Grace looked sad- her expression dropping into one of forlorn thoughtfulness. I pretended I didn't notice. "That's the second time you mentioned that name," I said. "Is he your real uncle?"

"No, more like a distant cousin," Grace clarified. "Or was. He passed away very recently." She looked sad again, but Ally didn't seem to notice.

"He was a funny old man," she threw out. "He always wore a weird patchwork coat made up of other coats. And he put glitter tape on his cane. Said it was so he would never lose it." She laughed. "But he always did!" Her good mood suddenly evaporated- a concerned look crossing her face. "He also said he'd leave us money when he died. But that didn't happen."

"Ally," Grace said sternly. "That's enough. Don't speak ill of the dead."

I tried not to look as interested as I was. "I don't mean to sound like I'm prying," I said. Both sisters looked at me and I tried to backtrack. "It's just- my dad's a lawyer. Was there some sort of problem with your Uncle Josiah's affairs? Maybe it's something my dad and I can help sort out." I'm sure Dad would be thrilled at that inclusion.

But Grace sighed at the offer. "Thank you, Nancy, but we already know that's pointless." She shook her head as she finished with the last of her stitching- holding up some fabric to my chest. It was a pretty navy color- not usually my thing, but Grace had picked out one that perfectly matched my eyes. "We already spoke to the lawyer in charge of the will. All of the money and whatever else Uncle Josiah had are going to his other relatives."

"And who are they?"

Grace didn't seem like she wanted to answer, but Ally suddenly looked incensed. "Those rotten Tophams," she snapped. "They took care of Uncle Josiah before he died, but it was more like they kept him prisoner."

"Ally-"

"You know it's true, Grace," Ally said, her tone wavering. She dropped her gaze to her lap. "We all loved Uncle Josiah. He was family. The fact that he gave all his money to those nasty Tophams doesn't make any sense."

"It was in his will," Grace said sternly. She shot me an apologetic look. "I'm sorry- this isn't something you'd like to hear."

"No, I-" I hesitated for a second and wondered if I should tell the girls about my real reason for nosing around. About my conversation with Henry Rolsted and Loralei and my hunch that old Crowley actually had a second will hidden somewhere. "Are there other relatives?" I went with instead. "Who used to take care of Uncle Josiah and thought they were going to be in the will? I'd like to talk to them." At Grace's curious look, I fumbled for an excuse. "Just to hear more about the story. If you were cheated, I'm sure you could make an appeal-"

"The lawyer said a will is final," Grace said, wrinkling her nose in thought.

"Yeah, but only if it's the final will," Ally spoke up. Grace shot her a look- clearly wanting her to be quiet- but Ally looked eager to share her information with me. "Uncle Josiah wrote a second will. I just know it."

"Ally, that's ridiculous and you know it," Grace scoffed. She looked around the house nervously. "He didn't even have a home. Where would he keep it?"

"He had furniture!" Ally said. "But the Tophams got it all!"

"He had furniture, but no home?" I asked.

Grace shrugged- seemingly understanding my confusion. "Uncle Josiah lived with his wife up until she died of illness. Then, he packed up all his furniture in this old van of his and drove around visiting cousins and the like." She frowned down at the fabric in her hand. "I think it was because he was lonely. But everyone would tell you it was because he was odd."

I let that information process. Somehow an old eccentric hermit with an ugly coat and a van full of old furniture was difficult to picture exactly. And when I could finally conjure it up, I had to resist laughing. "I think we should tell Nancy about the other cousins," Ally said, speaking more to Grace than to me. "She said her dad's a lawyer. And they need all the help they can get."

Grace seemed torn. "Well-"

"I'm not very busy this summer," I admitted with a shrug. "So, it would really just give me something to do- stopping in and visiting them all." For some reason, that seemed to convince Grace. She went into the kitchen and fetched some paper to write down names and addresses for me. She was halfway through one when Ally made a loud 'oo' noise.

"Don't forget Miss Abby!"

Grace looked skeptical and I looked between the two sisters for any sign of a clue as to what they were talking about. "Who's that? Another cousin?"

"We're not sure," Grace sighed. She started to write 'Abigail Rowen' on the paper in her hand anyway. "She was a nurse who Uncle Josiah stayed with just before he went to live at the Tophams'. She took care of him while he was beginning to get sick and she was a good friend." She handed me the sheet of paper with a somewhat apologetic look. "Maybe visit her last. She's a little... unfriendly."

"More like she's a witch," Ally snorted. Grace shot her a warning look and she made a face at her sister.

I stood in between the silent exchange somewhat awkwardly. "I'll be sure to. Thanks." With one more promise to return tomorrow with anything I'd learned, I headed off to track down the people on Grace's list. There were several- the Williamsons, the Silvers, Miss Abby, and two other cousins who Grace had written a '?' next to because she wasn't sure if they'd contested the will or not. The Horners hadn't- mostly due to lack of money. But the Williamsons and the Silvers certainly had put in a bid against the Tophams. I decided to locate them first because they lived both nearby and close to each other. Unfortunately, finding farms was still not my forte.

It took me about twenty minutes to even find the Williamson farm. And when I pulled into the driveway, I nearly ran over a kid running across it. "Hey!" I shouted with my head halfway out the window. "Watch it!" The kid threw out a rude gesture behind him and I was only slightly offended. "Little bastard."

Stepping out of the car, I could see the only person in sight was a man running a mower nearby- looking very occupied with that and not realizing I was anywhere nearby. From Grace and Ally's description I knew that the Williamsons were two brothers who lived together- no mention of the kid like the one I'd just seen streaking past- and that both of them were usually home on any given day. Still, I can only see one brother and the other was nowhere around.

Deciding to head to the door and ignore the mowing brother as much as he ignored me, I made it halfway up the step before I heard a low rumbling sound that wasn't the tractor. Freezing mid-step, I turned slightly to the right just to see what the source was. And it was a dog. A big, hulking black dog with slobber coming out of its mouth and a loose chain hanging around its big paws. I normally liked dogs- I loved them, even- but this was one pissed pup standing in front of me. I moved one foot experimentally and the dog hunched down even further- clearly ready to leap.

"Easy, girl," I tried, moving my foot slower this time. If I could get to the door or to the mower, I was sure I could get some help. Problem was, I didn't know which would be faster and which would be less likely to get me mauled. "I'm just... here... for a... visit-" Three things happened at once. The door opened, the dog pounced, and I nearly fell backwards in my attempt to get away from her.

"Coraline!" A man's voice shouted just as I was hit with 100 lbs of purebred Rottweiler. To my surprise, Coraline was just licking my face and not trying to chew it off. The chewing would have been preferable, really. "What are you doing off your post?" The hurried sound of footsteps, the lawn mower cut out, and Coraline was dragged off of me. "I am so sorry," a man with dark brown hair and blue eyes told me. He looked very similar to the mowing man who had now jogged up to join us. "I don't know how she got out."

"I think your son let her off the chain," I surmised. Having seen how fast that boy had been running, I'd had to assume boyish curiosity had gotten the best of him and he'd tried to play a game of fetch with Coraline. Of course, that just happened to end badly for me. I dragged myself up and off the ground- trying to get scuff marks off my t-shirt- while the brother with the dog frowned.

"Son?" I described the boy I'd nearly hit with my car and he immediately cursed. "That little brat has been trying to get at Coraline's puppies. She's very protective. She probably broke the chain going after him and then picked you to go after. Again, I'm so sorry."

"It's alright," I sighed. The dog slobber was drying on my face and I had too much pride to try to get it off at the moment. I would let it dry and I would agonize over it later- in private. I'm sure the other dirt I'd accumulated on the ground would distract from my spit facial. "I probably should have noticed her coming around the corner."

The mowing brother shot me a look. "Who are you again?" I introduced myself and learned that the brothers' names were Jeremy (mowing brother) and Jason (other brother). When I explained why I was on their farm this lovely morning and picking fights with their dog, they gladly let me inside. Coraline came, too, and leaned against my legs the whole time I was sitting on the couch. I didn't mind- I just scratched her behind the ears as the Williamsons explained the situation with the will. It was the same as the Silvers' (Natasha and Liona) and the other cousins' (Ross and Sharon) story. Each and every visit yielded the same thing: Uncle Josiah had verbally promised all of them a share of his estate when he passed away. But obviously that hadn't happened. And they were all considerably confused by it.

I was no lawyer, but I knew this was entirely circumstantial. Verbal statements only mattered on record and the will itself would cancel those out anyway. I was thoroughly stuck- even when I'd asked all the cousins if they'd ever heard Crowley mention a second will or even a favorite hiding spot, they all drew blanks. The Silvers mentioned his furniture collection again- how he had more trinkets than tables and chairs- but I also knew that those were all confiscated by the Tophams while they sat waiting for the fortune to fall in their lap. It sort of seemed like I had to talk to the Tophams. But of course, I couldn't just walk in, grab a seat on their couch, and ask them how sure they were that they were the rightful heirs of Josiah Crowley's well-hidden fortune.

And since any other option I'd come up with seemed absolutely ridiculous, I headed to the last name on my list- Miss Abigail Rowen.


	7. Witch

The first observation I made about Abby Rowen's house was that someone had taped a sign to the front of an oak tree in front of it that said, 'HERE LIVES THE WITCH OF THE WAY'.

The handwriting was hurried and sloppy, so I figured a local prankster had done it. As to why Abby hadn't taken it down, that felt like her business. Then again, house-keeping didn't really seem like her thing- judging from the overgrown bushes and brambles, the long branched trees overshadowing everything on the lawn and killing the grass, and the fence rotted and falling apart in several places.

Despite the obvious visual warnings that this was not a place I should approach, I walked right up the leaning, crooked porch and knocked on the door bravely. When no answer came, I knocked again and called out: "Miss Rowen? My name's Nancy Drew- I'd like to talk to you about Josiah Crowley." No response. And I was just about to knock again when I heard a groan coming from inside the house.

It sent chills up my spine and my first instinct was to run. But then I heard the faintest sound of a female voice saying 'help' and I got over my anxiety. "Miss Rowen?" I repeated as I opened the door. Unlocked, fortunately. "Are you in here?"

The inside of the house was worse than the outside. Furniture was covered in dust and somewhat crusty, things were in disarray on the tables and shelves, and flowers sat dead in a vase. And worst of all, it sort of reeked. Both like old people, but also like mold. If Abigail Rowen had really been a nurse, I found it hard to believe that she lived in a place like this willingly- it just couldn't be healthy.

I was pulled from my thoughts by another weak cry for help from the back room. Hurrying into a living room with a dusty fireplace mantle, I found the source of the pleas. An elderly woman- probably closer to 90 than anything- lay on the ground in a patterned green dress. Her stark white hair was falling out of its bun and sticking out everywhere and her feeble hands held on weakly to the couch she'd apparently managed to drag herself over to judging by the trail of dust on the floor.

"Oh!" I immediately knelt down to help her- noticing how pale and shaky she seemed. "Miss Rowen, what happened?"

"Damn knee gave out," she rasped- her voice impossibly weak and dry. "Couldn't get back up." I helped her carefully and lifted her up onto the couch. She gave a grateful sigh as I glanced at her knee from where it stuck out beneath the hem of her dress. It was an awful shade of purple- swollen and far beyond help from any first aid I could supply. I’d barely passed CPR training as it was. "Thank you, miss."

"I'll call a doctor-"

"No, no," Miss Abby sighed, waving her hand around. Now that she was settled onto a surface that wasn't the floor, she looked a bit stronger- eyes a bit brighter and everything. "Don't need no damn doctor. They charge too much and they get on my nerves." She squinted at me with her rheumy eyes mostly buried beneath the dark wrinkles surrounding them. "Who are you again?"

"Nancy Drew," I repeated. I hesitated in telling her my reason for coming. Clearly, she needed rest. "Are you sure you don't want a doctor?"

"I'm sure," Miss Abby said. "Just need a drink of water, is all." Suddenly, she frowned. "You know how to work a well pump?"

And just like that, I was sent outside to fetch water from a well pump. As soon as the water came forth, however, I decided it would be a better idea not to give any to the old ailing woman. It was practically brown with rust from inside the pipes and a quick check of the sink inside the dusty, cobwebby kitchen proved that it didn't work. Since I had water in my car, I went and fetched it- pouring it into the glass Miss Abby had given me and passing it off to her. She didn't seem to care where it came from as she drank it gratefully. "Thank you again." She put down her glass. Or tried- I ended up taking it and putting it on the couch-side table. "Now I suppose you should be going. I have no money or valuables to give you."

"Miss Rowen, I'm not here to rob you." She didn't so much as budge. "I actually wanted to ask you about Josiah Crowley."

"Ah!" Her loud shout nearly made me jump. "That old fool. Why do you want to know about him?" She eyed me skeptically. "He's dead, you know. Doesn't have need for any pretty young girlfriend."

I quickly caught on to the fact that Miss Abby had a bit of a wicked sense of humor. "Who knows," I shrugged. "He might still be my type." My joke worked and Miss Abby scoffed out a laugh.

"You're funny," she remarked. "Not that anyone can tell. You got a real dumb look about you." I put that in my ‘list of insults I didn’t know how to respond to’. She eyed me with a rather intense scrutiny. "Why do you want to know about Josiah, anyway?"

"I'm looking into some issues with his will." I tried to look older by squaring my shoulders- just so Miss Abby wouldn't see me as some nosy kid. Which I was, but I didn't have to look it. "Some of his relatives believe there's a second one."

"There is."

"There is?" I sounded almost too hopeful for my own good. So, I tried to dial it back. "Are you sure?"

"Sure," Miss Abby said with a dismissive wave of her hand. "I was there when he wrote it."

It was all I could do to stay in my seat. "Did you sign as a witness? Do you know where it is now? Was it any different from his previous ones?"

Miss Abby waved her hand at me again- this time to get me to shut up. "Now that's too many questions," she huffed. "Yes, I saw Josiah scribbling away on some paper one day. And when I asked, said he was writing a new will." She tapped her finger just below her eye. "Got a real strange twinkle in his eye when he told me, 'They're gonna have a hard time with this one'."

"Did he mean he was planning to hide it?" I pressed. "Did he mention where?"

"I'm sure he..." Miss Abby trailed off and suddenly looked rather tired. I felt bad, then, because I'd been talking to her like she wasn't someone who'd just spent who knows how long collapsed on the floor of her living room.

"Would you like me to make you something to eat?" I asked her. "A sandwich or something small?"

Miss Abby just shook her head. "I ain't got nothing in the house for that. 'Course..." She eyed me with that critical look of hers again. "I have some money in the tin in the cupboard. If you promise not to steal it-"

"I'll go and get you some groceries," I insisted. Miss Abby opened her mouth to protest, but I cut her off. "In exchange, you can tell me all you remember about Josiah Crowley."

With one last order for her to get some rest, I went back into the kitchen and tried to find the tin she'd mentioned. It was just as dismal as before- made even more so by the fact that every cupboard I checked was either empty or full of moldy bread or dusty cans. How one woman could have so many roommates in the form of bacteria, I wasn’t sure. When I finally found the tin Miss Abby had instructed me to, I only found five dollars and some change. I left the five where it was- resolved to pick up some essentials for Miss Abby with my own money. I had some. Not much, but it was more than five damn dollars.

Back in the car, I made one stop. On my way down the road, I pulled over to the neighbor's house- apparently owned by a nice woman wearing yellow who stood out front- and asked her if she could look in on Miss Abby sometime in the next few days. "She's not feeling well, and she won't let me call a doctor."

"Oh, that's Miss Abby, alright," the woman sighed. She wrung her hands in her apron like she was nervous. "I hope you don't think badly of me that I didn't notice she needed help. I usually check in on her myself-"

"Don't worry about it." At the grocery store, I picked up about as much as I figured would last an older woman a week (peas and carrots- they ate those, right?) and headed back quickly. Miss Abby was still on the couch where I left her, and I rushed pretty spectacularly through making a quick lunch of sandwiches and water from some bottles I'd bought at the store. Miss Abby accepted the meal with a polite grumble. I sat back across from her and debated how long I needed to wait until I could ask her about Crowley again. I was sure that would be the most work I’d ever have to do in order to interview someone. And I hadn’t even gotten to the interview part.

Fortunately, Miss Abby made that decision for me. "About that second will," she said. "I don't know who was in it, I don't know who might have signed it, but I think I can tell you where it is." I was hopeful for all of two seconds, but then I happened to see the absent look on Miss Abby's face. Clearly, she couldn't remember for the life of her where Josiah had put his second will. It was obvious even from her face. "Darn mind of mine don't work like it used to," I could hear her grumbling as she continued to think.

"If you can't remember, I can-"

Suddenly, Miss Abby seemed to fixate on the mantle. On it, there was little other than a dusty old clock, some dusty portraits, and- surprise!- more dust. "The clock!"

"The... clock?" I looked at it- expecting it to be broken or off by a few minutes. I didn't know how to reset the time on an analog clock so if Miss Abby asked, I was sure I couldn't help.

"No, girl," Miss Abby scolded me. "Josiah put something to do with his will in his clock!" She shook her head. "I remember now. Something to do with that old antique mantle clock he had. Decorated with moons and stars. He called it his 'witch clock'. Said he would leave his will 'in her hands'."

Again, I felt a rush of excitement. "Do you know where this clock is?"

I was barely bothered when Miss Abby shrugged. "Figured whoever got his furniture got it. It's a real old thing. Probably even older than me." I felt my heart sink. I already knew who had Josiah Crowley's furniture. And they were the last people I wanted to meet with. While I realized this. Miss Abby watched me with her scrutinizing gaze. "Why are you asking all this, anyway?"

"I want to find the second will," I admitted. I figured Miss Abby wasn't the type of person to be lied to. I could definitely see why local kids thought she was a witch- if she ever handed out cookies, they probably had mud in them. "It could help a lot of people."

Miss Abby scoffed. "What're you? Some kind of detective?"

For some reason, that thought struck me as funny. Detectives were stuffy old white dudes in long trench-coats with trilby hats and all the emotional capacity of a rock or, sometimes, just teenage boys bumbling around with all the efficiency of someone who flunked out of Eagle Scouts. I was almost the exact opposite of that kind of person. "Not really. I'm just too curious for my own good, I guess."

"That's a good trait for a girl your age," Miss Abby said. "Especially in these times. You don’t do any of that social media nonsense, do you?”

"Uh, maybe," I answered.

"What's 'maybe' mean?"

"It means I would answer ‘yes’, but I don’t want you to judge me for it." Miss Abby liked my joke. So much so she told me about her hobby of traveling before she’d come to this part of Hayworth. She had a quick wit and a funny way of remembering details- everything backwards with the small, insignificant stuff first. But it somehow made her stories better and I must have spent an hour or so just sitting in that dusty living room with her. "I have to go," I told her once I actually spared a glance at my phone's clock. "But I'll be back."

"Why?" Miss Abby scoffed. "Have nothing better to do than bug an old lady?"

"Of course not," I laughed. "If your neighbor comes over, try not to bite her head off." Miss Abby just shot me a challenging look before I left, and I considered that the closest thing I'd get to an 'okay'. I really did plan on revisiting the older woman- especially if I needed any more information on this second will she'd seen Josiah write himself.

In the meantime, I had a major problem with the next part of this will hunt. Namely, I needed to not only get into the Tophams' home to find Crowley's 'witch clock', but I needed an excuse to look at it. Even I wasn't bold enough to knock on someone's door with a 'hey how you doing got any old clocks I can take a crack at?'

I ran the problem over in my head the entire drive home (almost ran over a cat, too- that damn focus problem again), but hadn't come up with a solution by the time I parked in the driveway and headed inside. That’s when I noticed the lights were off.

I froze- not quite sure if that meant something was very bad or the house was very empty. Dad hadn’t said anything about needing to go anywhere today and the front door hadn’t been locked. So, quietly as I could, I started to tiptoe from room to room- checking to see if anything was amiss. Bad guys? Spies? Robbers? Or-

Or just Dad laying on the couch in the living room with a blanket over his face. “Oh.” He groaned like a zombie in a horror movie. "What's wrong with you?" I asked.

“Headache," Dad groaned. I tried not to roll my eyes. My dad didn’t get sick often, but when he did it was like the worst thing he had ever been forced to endure. Even a little splinter was enough to turn Dad into a battered war victim lying bleeding on the battlefield with no hope of seeing his family again. And yes, he was that dramatic. "Please get me some aspirin?" I headed down the hall toward the bathroom. "None in there. Need to go to the store."

Sighing, I turned on my heel and headed right back out the door. It was best to just help Dad when he was suffering from any ill effect or I’d never hear the end of it. I automatically walked toward the car before I realized that the nearest store with aspirin wasn't very far away and I could easily walk. And a walk would be good, I reasoned. Something that could help me clear my head and give me time to think up some way to get into the Tophams' house. The sun was shining, the roads weren't crowded, and I was wearing comfortable shoes.

Yup. A walk was the perfect way to jumpstart a brainstorm.


	8. Charity

Of course, a brainstorm cannot be jumpstarted if your brain is running at 2% battery, I guess.

Even after walking to the pharmacy, hunting through the medicine aisle for the good aspirin, and standing in the obscenely long line at the register to pay for it, I had no clue how I was even going to approach the Tophams. I had no idea where they lived, I had no idea what two of them looked like, and it had even occurred to me that it was entirely possible they already had the second will in their possession. And then what? I steal it from them? I hadn't started out on this little mystery with the intent of doing any high-grade spy stuff- I didn't know if I would be willing to even go that far.

But then I thought about the Horners and the Williamsons and the Silvers and all the other people who might be getting cheated out of their rightful inheritance by the Tophams. And it made me mad. Mad enough that I wasn't looking where I was going on my walk back and rammed right into someone.

As a very sturdy person myself, I didn't topple over, but the person unfortunate enough to run into me could not boast the same thing. "Sorry!" I blurted out first before looking down and seeing the latest victim of my lack of focus. A girl about my age with brown hair, wide eyes, and a very proper-looking summer outfit of a blouse and shorts. And I recognized her. "Oh, crap, Helen! I wasn't paying attention. Are you alright?"

"Oh, perfectly fine," Helen Corning sighed as she picked herself up. She brushed off the tiniest speck of dirt from her white shirt. "I wasn't paying attention, either, honestly." She looked up and her face finally lit up with recognition. "Hey Nancy!”

Helen and I went to school together. Not that that was saying much- River Heights High had a junior class of about 400 students. And Helen was more Bess’s acquaintance than mine. Or was she George’s? Well, great, now I couldn’t mention either of them without sounding like an idiot. “Hey,” was all I came back with. “How’s your summer going? Except for the part where I plowed you into the pavement there.”

Helen laughed. "It’s great!" she said. "What about you? I thought you were supposed to be looking for a job or something?”

“Oh, yeah, that’s- uh… I was doing that.” A long pause that was a little awkward. This is why I didn’t like to run into people outside of school who weren’t Bess and George. And it was too late for me to pretend to have a heart attack, so I could get out of this conversation. “I thought you would be at your camp." That was one thing still clunking around in the old steel trap otherwise known as my brain. Helen had spent the last few days of school talking about a summer camp she just couldn't _wait_ to go to. Apparently, all her not-school friends would be there and there would be swimming and tennis and volleyball and hand holding and singing and blah blah blah. Helen might have been my age _physically,_ but she was excited about all the same things as a twelve-year-old would be. And not even, like, a cool twelve-year-old. "You were so excited to go."

I still felt awkward- especially when Helen pouted. "Oh, not yet," she sighed. She held up something she'd been holding in her hand. Paper, I realized. Tickets, when I looked closer. "I have to sell a few more charity tickets. Some event where all the stuffy adults go to pretend like they care about starving kids."

As exhausting as keeping up this conversation was, her statement gave me the inkling of an idea. "How many left do you have to sell?" I asked, trying to hide the blatant curiosity creeping into my tone.

Helen looked down at the tickets in her hand. "Just four. Though I've been all over town and I can't think of who would want them."

"Well-" And here came the part where I really had to sell myself out. "I'll buy them." Helen just looked totally unsure and I couldn't blame her. "Here. I'll pay you the money for the tickets right now. All four of them. How much?"

I already had my wallet out as Helen seemed to process that order. "Fifty bucks."

"Each?" I looked down into my wallet. I had two dollars. "Uh, do you take checks?" Fortunately, she did. And while Helen gleefully took all two hundred dollars I just blew on tickets for a charity I didn't even know the cause of, I started to really hope my plan would pan out. Especially since I was making it up as I went. I’d have to thank Hannah for convincing me to carry around a checkbook ‘for emergencies’ like a grandma, though.

"Thanks so much, Nancy," Helen gushed. "My feet were starting to hurt from walking all around town trying to sell those!" Her eyes went wide suddenly. "Oh, hey, you should come to the camp, too! There's an open spot and it really is a great place. Right on the edge of Lake-"

"Firefly, I remember," I cut her off. I smiled as politely as I could. "If I can manage it, I'll try to make an appearance." Helen grinned and I mentally chastised myself for even loosely promising to go to that horrible kiddie camp. God, they'd probably make me make friendship bracelets or something. "By the way, Helen-" She stopped in the middle of skipping off to turn back toward me. "Where do the Tophams live? You know, Ada and Isabel and their parents."

Helen immediately wrinkled her nose in distaste. "No offense, but why would you want to visit them?" she asked. "I went to elementary school with Ada and Isabel. They're not very good company."

That was a nice way of putting it. "I was in the store the other day and one of them dropped something," I bluffed. "I wanted to give it back."

Helen just shrugged. "Suit yourself." She pointed up the road in some vague direction. "Head up to East Street and take a left. They live on Lorn Boulevard. Big ugly house with the pink shutters. Can't miss it."

Thanking Helen for the instructions, I headed off in the opposite direction she did with the intent to keep an eye out for a 'big ugly house with pink shutters'. Turns out, it wasn't hard to find. Because Helen was not exaggerating.

"Yikes," was my only comment on the behemoth of a mistake clogging up what was otherwise a very nice and influential-looking neighborhood. Everyone else's houses had high hedges and nice lawns and white lawn furniture. But then the Tophams must have decided that was too low-brow for them or something because the gaudy lawn furniture paired with the bright shutters and grimly painted paneling just screamed ‘bad taste’.

The front door was a big two-door deal with mismatched mahogany wood and a brass knocker across the obscenely wide porch, but I walked up and knocked anyway. There was no response and I started to fidget in my spot. Were they not home? Did they refuse to answer for solicitors? Before I could figure out how to break into the nearest window to circumvent the issue of whether the Tophams would answer or not, I heard the shuffle of footsteps and the shrill sound of two female voices bickering. "I'll get it, Isabel," I heard Ada's awful voice screeching. Without meaning to, I shuddered. Seriously, how could a person just _sound_ that unpleasant? Did she practice? "You don't answer the door right!"

"Do, too!" I could hear Isabel shoot back. The girls continued their bickering even when they opened the door. Then I just sort of stood there awkwardly for about half a minute until an older woman showed up.

"Girls!" she snapped at Ada and Isabel. She brushed them aside like they were two prize Chihuahuas yipping at each other. "We have a visitor." The woman turned to me, then- the first acknowledgement I'd gotten since stepping onto the porch- and eyed me like one does the gum stuck to the bottom of their shoe. I took a wild guess and assumed she was Cora Topham. "Who are you, anyway?"

"I'm selling-"

Cora Topham cut me off with a wave of her hand. "No solicitors!"

She moved to try to slam the door in my face, but I stopped it with my foot. Cora's expression turned sour when she saw my shoe on her mahogany door. "Charity tickets," I finished. "An upcoming event. I figured you'd be interested, Mrs. Topham."

"And why would I be?" Cora Topham asked me shortly. She raised one of her overly drawn brows. Unlike her daughters, Cora Topham had some semblance of a conventionally attractive face, but she drowned it in make-up. Between her rogue, penciled eyebrows, and penciled lips, she stopped resembling a person and looked more like a clown at the fair. I could literally see the line where her foundation stopped at her neck. Bess could go on for hours about how that was The Worst (capital T and W).

"It's charity," I said. I put on an innocent smile. "Everybody’s going to be there. Pretty much every name you know in River Heights.”

Amazingly, that was enough to get Cora Topham to open the door for me. She watched me with a resentful eye as she silently herded me inside and into a den. Just like the outside, the inside of the Tophams' house was ostentatious- unmatching pieces clearly thrown in just because they looked expensive. But there was also a strange bareness, I noticed. Like some things had been taken out and moved away. I couldn't prove it, of course, and I couldn't even see very much of the large house before I was signaled to sit on a chaise lounge colored an obnoxious magenta. I was only disappointed to see that the clock on the mantle didn't look anything like the 'witch clock' Miss Abby had described to me. "Very well, then," Cora Topham spoke up once she was seated in an overly plush lounge chair. "What is this charity for? Who will be there? What evening is it? What should I wear?"

All the questions came so fast that I only managed to catch the first one. And shoot, I didn't even know what the charity was for. In favor of not looking like an idiot because I happened to look down at the tickets in my purse, I went for what I figured had to be an easy option. "The children."

"What about the children?" Cora Topham asked sharply. She kind of had the demeanor of an old ballet instructor I used to have. I had never liked that woman.

"The charity is for them," I fibbed. "Underprivileged children. And the ticket sales help young girls in the area go to camp." I figured that part had to at least be partly true. It was what Helen was doing after all. And they had camps for those, right? Pretty sure I saw an article about it the other day.

But Cora Topham didn't seem all that impressed by my claim. "Boorish activity- camp. You'll never see my girls doing anything like that." Or probably having any friends. Helen- the friendliest sixteen-year-old from River Heights High- hadn't seemed to have anything nice to say about the Topham sisters. They also weren't in the room- apparently things had gotten too boring for them and they'd scampered off elsewhere. "And underprivileged children are such a tired cause. I don't want any tickets."

"But-"

"I said no," Cora Topham snapped. She curled her witch-like nails over the chair of her arm. "I ask you to leave, Miss-"

"Nancy Drew," I filled in for her, trying to keep my expression neutral. I had to think quickly, or I'd be kicked out of the house without a single lead. I honed-in on the clock on the mantle. An ugly, gaudy piece made out in silver and gold and red oak. It didn't even tell the right time. "That's a very lovely clock you have, Mrs. Topham. Where did you get it?"

It was a long shot. And Cora Topham's sour expression made it clear it didn't quite help me out of my bind. In fact, I'd clearly made her suspicious judging by the little pinch between her overly drawn eyebrows. Or maybe that was just the botox. "I asked you to leave, Miss Drew," she said in a very measured voice.

I was sunk. After all the lying to get into the stupid house and I hadn't even gotten one clue as to where the damn clock was. I also lost two hundred dollars. That was also pretty shitty. But before I could officially cut my losses and run, a voice spoke up from around the corner. "Drew?" It was a man's voice- one belonging to a gray-haired gentleman with a stern expression seemingly permanently etched onto his face. He came around the corner just to stand in the den entrance and frown. "Did you say Drew, Cora?"

Cora Topham didn't seem all that interested in what the man- who I had to guess was Richard Topham- was asking. She looked bored when she answered him. "The young lady visiting is Nancy Drew, dear," she said dryly. "She was just leaving."

Mr. Topham didn't seem to hear that last part- busy zeroing in on me. He had very dark eyes that even I didn't like being under the scrutiny of. "Are you related to Carson Drew?" he asked me.

I didn't fail to notice Cora straightening a bit in her seat- the boredom vanishing into thin air. "Yes, sir," I said politely, flashing a smile. Not for too long, though- I didn’t want to overdo the smiling. "That would be my dad."

Mr. Topham looked behind me like he expected to see Dad crouching behind the chaise lounge. "He's not here with you, is he?" He looked back at me. "What are you doing here, anyway?"

"Selling charity tickets," I said. I cast a quick look at Cora Topham. "Mrs. Topham wasn't interested, though."

"We'll take them," Mr. Topham said without hesitation.

Cora made an unfortunate sputtering noise. "But Richard, dear, I already told her-"

"You got four?" Mr. Topham asked. I nodded. "I'll pay you four hundred for all of them. That should be enough, correct?"

For a second, I had to make sure I didn't give away how that was more than enough. I'd never made a profit on anything in my life- especially not charity tickets I'd taken as an excuse just to get into someone's house. I was actually pretty sure no one did that. "Thank you, sir," I managed out. "The charity could really benefit from that kind of donation."

"Richard, that's too much," I heard Cora hiss. I supposed she didn't want me to hear her, but she also looked so furious at her husband that she might not have really cared. "We can hardly afford-"

"Nonsense, dear," Mr. Topham interrupted his wife with his brusque manner. He waved one hand in her general direction and sat down in another armchair across from me. "We Tophams are charitable people." I secretly wondered if that lie had hurt his teeth when it passed them. "Now, about your father, Miss Drew..."

"Dad’s pretty busy," I said quickly- stealing Mr. Topham's interrupting schtick. He didn't look very surprised and only mildly deterred by my brush-off. I didn't want to get back onto the subject anytime soon, though. I waved one hand toward the mantle behind me. "But I was just asking Mrs. Topham about the clock on the mantle. It's a lovely looking piece and I was wondering where you got it."

"The store," Mr. Topham grunted. Wow.

I struggled to come up with something else quickly. "I've actually heard in town that you inherited quite a bit of furniture from a Josiah Crowley?" It was a risk- especially when both of the Tophams tensed in the slightest- but I didn't see any other way I could get the information without cutting to the chase. "I'm a big fan of antiques and I heard he had plenty. I was hoping I could see them when I stopped by today."

Richard and Cora Topham looked at me like I was asking them about their opinion on the local bat population. And admittedly, it really wasn't the best bluff I'd told today. Even the 'the children' slip-up had been a bit less on the nose. After one agonizing second where I was pretty sure I'd have to make a break for it, Cora made a haughty sound. "Those old eyesores?" She made a face. "We don't keep those in the house."

"That's a shame," I said levelly. I wracked my brain for a way to ask where they were if not in the house. "I would have really liked to see them. Did you sell them to someone around here?"

"We didn't sell them," Cora said crisply. "We just don't keep them in the house." She waved her hand dismissively. "We keep all Crowley's old furniture at the summer house."

"You have a summer house?" Was that public record? Could I possibly look it up and never have to deal with the Tophams in person ever again until I had my hands on the will? For some reason, I got the feeling that even combined they didn't have enough wits to rub together to even make a spark of an original idea. But that was just an initial impression.

"Currently closed for the season," Mr. Topham said as he settled back into his chair with his hands crossed over his chest. "But it's a lovely little place. Very exclusive access to a private beach on Lake Firefly."

"Near the camp?" I asked.

"Hardly," Cora corrected me. "On the other side, dear." She glared at her husband. "Richard, if you're going to buy those tickets, you better pay Miss Drew now."

She looked unhappy about the entire idea, but Mr. Topham still seemed unfazed by her bitterness. He shuffled around in his suit jacket until he pulled out a checkbook. I wondered if I could cash it in all good conscious. "Right, right," Mr. Topham muttered as he fetched a pen from the nearby coffee table. "While you're here you should meet the girls. They're your age. One of them is, I'm sure. You'll get along famously. And maybe you and your father can join us for dinner sometime."

"Oh, that's not really-"

"Call the girls, honey," Mr. Topham instructed his wife.

Cora shot me the most withering of looks while her husband was occupied writing out a check before rotating herself toward the den entrance. "ADA! ISABEL!" Her screech was deafening. But probably not as bad as the responding shriek of 'what' from Ada. "COME DOWN HERE!"

"Would you look at the time!" I announced in a rush- standing up so fast the chaise lounge moved back. Mr. Topham held out the check and I quickly grabbed it. "Really gotta run. Thank you again for your generous donation to the charity and I hope we'll be in touch soon!"

I made a break for it after practically tossing the tickets from my purse toward the Tophams. Check in hand, I fast-walked toward the front door- counting my steps to freedom. Just a few more and I could escape the Topham house. One more and- " _You_!"

I froze. I don't know why, but the vengeful voice of Ada Topham made me stop dead in my tracks. Slowly, I turned around. Ada and Isabel stood near the bottom of the foyer steps- matching disgruntled looks on their faces. It did not make them look any more attractive than usual. "Hi," I greeted for lack of anything else to do. "Nice to see you again."

"Like hell!" Ada snarled. She was all puffed up like a wolverine. I might have unintentionally brought a hand up to protect my throat. "You got us in trouble at the department store, you little-"

"We got in trouble!" Isabel blurted out over her sister.

"Now that's a shame," I said as casually as I could manage. "Wish I could stay around and chat, but I'm late for an important meeting." I turned on my heel and bolted. No use fast-walking now- I was full on sprinting. "Bye now!"

"WHY YOU-"

I could swear I felt the breeze from Ada's lunge to try and grab me. If anything, it propelled me forward to jump off the porch and make a break for it across the long lawn. I dashed all the way down Lorn Boulevard and a good third of East Street before I felt safe enough to stop and catch my breath. Neither Ada nor Isabel had followed me, and I was glad for it. One less thing to worry about.

Standing on the sidewalk trying to slow my heart rate to something normal, I was certain of one thing: better cash that check from Mr. Topham sooner rather than later.


	9. Camp

I was about an hour late with the aspirin and Dad had decided to declare himself legally dead.

My self-prescribed atonement for making him suffer was to go to my room and sit there in darkness like some kind of hermit. Okay, that wasn't really what I was doing, but I didn't bother to turn the light on when I went into my room. Instead, I just collapsed on my bed and slept off my own headache. By the time I woke up, it was dinner time. Not like that meant anything because there was no actual dinner to eat.

When I went into the kitchen, Dad was hunched over the counter eating an untoasted Pop-Tart with all the grace of a chimpanzee at the zoo. “You ever notice that when Hannah’s gone, we revert back to Cro-Magnons?”

Dad just grunted and I stole the second Pop-Tart from him before he could stop me.

The next morning, I woke up bright and early to make a phone call. I was actually a little surprised when the person I called answered. "Hello?"

"Hi, Helen." I wondered how she managed to sound so awake at such an ungodly hour. "Listen, it turns out I'm kind of hard-up for something to do this summer and I was really hoping I could-" I hoped Helen didn't notice the pause I took to work up my nerve, "Come down to the camp to spend a day or two there."

The immediate response was a shriek. I wasn't sure if Helen said something immediately afterwards because I hadn't quite regained my hearing, but she was still babbling away when I managed to tune back in. "Nancy, that would be so great! I told the girls here all about you and they're so excited to meet you! We can play doubles tennis with Laura and Angie and you totally have to play volleyball with us and- oh! Make sure you bring your bathing suit because the water is so great this time of year and-"

"Sounds great, Helen!" I cut her off. "I'll be there in a few hours." I hung up before Helen could tell me more about the _super_ fun, _totally_ great time I'd be having at camp. Thankfully, it was a day camp (I'd checked) and I had an excuse to only stay a few hours. My excuse just didn't know it yet. Walking into the kitchen, I informed Dad of my plans. "I'm going to summer camp for a bit."

"What?" was Dad's response.

"Okay, bye." I grabbed my purse and walked out the door. I hurried to get into the car and drive off- anticipating I had about three hours before Dad realized that he needed more explanation for that and called me. That would be my excuse for leaving the _super_ fun. I could lie about some emergency, I was sure. In the meantime, I had a long drive to the bank of Lake Firefly- a lake that was closer to Judge John and the Horner sisters. It crossed my mind that I still had a dress to pick up from Grace and I made a mental note to do that on my way back.

On the way to Lake Firefly, I ran over the few things I'd learned about Josiah Crowley's will the last day or so. He'd definitely made a second one and he'd definitely hid it. The Tophams may or may not know about the second will, but it seemed like they didn't from the way they'd gotten rid of Crowley's furniture so fast. Presumably if he hid the secret to the will in the clock, he'd have hidden other clues in his only belongings, too. But that was all just speculation. I wouldn't know until I had my hands on the clock. I had no clue how I would do that, but it was a work in progress.

I still hadn't come up with a very good idea by the time I reached the camp. I pulled into the parking lot only to spot Helen near the entrance- waving her arm off. Once I'd parked, I hopped out of the car only to be greeted with a collision hug. "Oof!"

"I'm so glad you're here!" Helen gushed before she released me. "We're gonna have so much fun!"

"Oodles." I looked out toward the lake. "Do we have boats for the lake?" If I had to cross it, I'd prefer not to swim.

"Of course," Helen giggled. "But first, you have to come meet everyone."

"Well, actually, I-" I didn't get a chance to finish my excuse because I was being dragged off by the arm toward the camp's mess hall. Helen was weirdly strong. She also never took tour guide lessons judging from the painfully short introduction she gave me to everything. There was the camp center (where it looked like bonfires took place), the courts (I didn't know for what game), and here's the mess hall. The camp was a small, tidy little place with the typical wooden buildings and nature-y decor. I hated it. But I kept a straight face as Helen introduced me to all her friends.

There was Laura and Lizzie and Sammy and Naya and Jessica and so many other names I knew I would never learn even if I bothered to do as much. The worst part was all of them seemed like Helen 2.0. Maybe it was a fair assessment to say I wasn’t the friendliest person in the world (there was a reason I had only _two_ friends my own age), sure, but the next few hours I was stuck in the company of the camp's roster was essentially hell. Mostly because I couldn't _escape_. I was subjected to gossip, sports, and all manner of crafts. After a few hours had passed and we were supposed to go onto a hike, I quickly excused myself to the bathroom.

Once I was away from the group, I cut around the path to the outhouses (because of _course_ they didn't have real bathrooms) and looped back to the lake. Lake Firefly was the sort of picturesque little lake set squat in the middle of a pine forest that you expect a camp to be around. I’d been to a grand total of three times in my life- one memorable occasion being when I’d gotten a fish stuck in my bathing suit when I was ten and decided lakes maybe weren’t for me. Even from the far shore, I could see the outline of private docks and summer cabins. Hopefully, one of them was the Tophams'.

Double-checking to make sure no one was looking, I hurried down to the camp's dock and hopped into one of the tiny motorboats they apparently used for recreation. It was a dinghy little thing with a smiley face painted on the side like that somehow made it less unpleasant to sit in. The motor started with a loud sputter that made me almost worry I would be caught sneaking away, but it caught all the same. I took the boat out and headed toward the far side of the lake- determined to get there and back again before anyone really noticed I was missing.

At first, I didn't think it would be all that difficult. Lake Firefly didn't seem to me like the world's widest lake. But when I was actually on it, I realized I might have underestimated how much lake there was to cross. And how reliable of a vessel I'd nabbed for the trip. I was almost to the dead center of Lake Firefly when the outboard motor on the boat gave a nasty cough. "Oh no, no!" I pleaded with the engine- I even complimented it- but it still gave out and left me stranded in the middle of the lake. Even if I wanted to swim back, it would be exhausting to try. So, I decided to play mechanic.

Let it be known that I have zero knowledge of boats and their engines besides how to steer them and turn them on. That was usually George’s thing. But _she_ was at her stupid _mountain camp_ right now.

So, when I saw the hulking mess of wires and metal bits, I went with my usual option of fixing machines and just sort of hit it to see if that would get it to work. My methods may not be proven, but I know they were _sometimes_ known to work. And I'm also never one to quit even when the situation seems hopeless so that explained why I spent who knows how much time fiddling with the engine even when the hot sun was baking me to a crisp and I knew I was definitely missed at the camp by now. I only gave up trying to coax the engine back to life when I realized how pointless it was. I was hot, I was starting to sweat, and I was clearly stuck in the middle of Lake Firefly with no means of getting this boat back to land with me.

The aggravating part was that it shouldn't have been this difficult to get over to the private side of the lakefront. I could have probably driven there when I thought about it, but the summer camp excuse was to get past Dad. I was sure he'd be less than enthusiastic about my plans to hunt down a summer cabin only to break into it and potentially steal a clock. I would argue that I was just going to borrow it, but I'm sure a lawyer like my dad wouldn't care for that terminology one bit. ‘That’s not how the law works, Nancy’, he’d say. Well, what does he now? Oh, wait.

I was busy sulking in the middle of the lake when I happened to hear the sound of swishing and rowing- followed by the sound of someone shouting. Since I'd been laying in the bottom of the boat (in an attempt to ignore the heat even when I wasn't sure it was working), I had to sit upright to see who was coming. And really, I shouldn't have been the least bit surprised by who it was. "Helen?"

"Hey, Nancy!" Helen called back just as she and the other two girls in the canoe with her pulled up alongside my useless boat. The thing didn't even have oars for me to paddle to shore with. I checked. "We missed you during the hike. What on earth are you doing out here?"

"Oh, I just-" Was trying to get to the other side so I could snoop around someone's private property. "I just really wanted to get out onto the lake."

"You could have waited," one of the girls in the canoe said lightly. "We always do a midnight swim. And anyone could have told you this old boat is anything, but reliable."

"I figured that one out," I sighed. "I've been dead in the water for hours."

"Yikes!" Helen looked considerably worried. "You are looking a little flushed there. We'll tow you back in." While that felt a little rude, I had to admit my face felt a little hot. If I'd gotten any sort of sunburn from my little foray, I was going to officially chalk it up as a bust, but I chose not to think about it as I helped Helen and the other girls tie a tow rope between the boat and the canoe.

Despite my offer to help, the girls insisted that I just sit still in the boat while they paddled us both in. They worked well enough as a team to get both boats in fast and I stood up once we neared the dock to try and jump up onto it and make the towing a little easier. It wasn't my best idea, admittedly. My body decided to immediately remind me that I hadn't stood up in a long time on top of being out in the sun unsheltered for several hours as soon as I moved.

The end result was that I passed out- straight over the edge of the boat and into the cold water of the lake.

When I came to, I was in one of the cabins with Helen and a couple of the other girls lingering around. There weren't really any counselors at this camp- just an older woman named Delilah who occasionally told us what to do. There might have been a nurse, but it didn't really take a medical degree to figure out a cold cloth to the head like the one on mine was a pretty effective method for people who fainted. "Whoops," was the first word out of my mouth when I realized where I was and, more importantly, what had happened.

"Yeah, Nancy, you really fainted," commented one girl named Brandy or something.

"You fell into that lake like a rock!" said another girl who I was pretty sure went by Diana. "It was actually kind of funny." I decided I did not like Diana.

Helen, on the other hand, was all serious. "You should stay and rest for a little while longer," she said, sounding a lot sterner than I knew she was. It was good to know that on top of being annoying, Helen was also bossy. Sometimes it was nice to know a person could be doubly irritating.

"I'm fine," I said as I attempted to sit back up. It wasn't by best idea judging by the rush of light-headedness and the swimming vision. I plunked right back down like the rock Diana described me as. "I mean, I could go for a glass of water." Someone shoved one in my face and I carefully took a few sips. Despite being on the water for several hours earlier, I found the nice, cool drinking water much more refreshing. And while I argued that I was totally fine a few more times, Helen and her group of junior doctors all insisted I rest.

I've never really one to idle an entire day away (unless I was _really_ bored), but it was actually kind of nice dozing in the cool cabin for a while. The especially nice part was that I was able to duck out of group activities thanks to my pseudo-sun poisoning and I was even alone for the night when it turned out none of the other girls were staying in the cabin. It was the most relaxing rest I'd ever had after fainting off a boat while trying to cross a lake to break into someone's summer cabin. So of course, I got woken up the next morning by my phone going off as loudly as humanly possible.

"Hello?" I managed out in my best imitation of a frog when I finally fished my phone off the side table.

"Where are you?" Dad asked.

"I told you," I said. "I'm at summer camp."

"You did no such-" There was a pause and I knew Dad was suddenly remembering that I did actually do such a thing. I was nothing if not thorough. "Why are you at summer camp?"

"I'm... hanging out with girls my own age," I fibbed. "Having a blast playing sports and... making friendship bracelets."

"Nancy."

"No, that's one hundred percent what's happening here," I said, trying to sound adamant about it. Even through the phone, Dad had an uncanny knack for telling when I was lying. And technically, I wasn't. "I'll be back before tonight with so many more friendship bracelets than I had before I left."

Dad sighed so long it came through the phone as static. "I don't pretend to understand what’s going on with you some of the time, but usually when you lie to me, it’s for a very good reason." I wisely didn't say anything. "Also, a girl dropped by the house. With a dress for you." Oh, oops. I'd forgotten I was supposed to pick up my dress from Grace. "And she asked me if I'm able to help her with her late uncle's missing will. Would you happen to know anything about that?"

For a second, I was faced with a decision. Be responsible and tell Dad what I was up to so that he could back me up if I got into trouble or even provide the occasional advice or assistance. Or lie. I deliberated for one entire second on that choice before I reached a decision. "I gotta go. A bear broke into the cabin and it's eating my roommate."

Okay, so maybe I didn't make the best decision. But Dad at least didn't call me back and demand I tell him what I was up to. So, I figured everything would work out. Plus, there was actually no bear eating my roommate and that was always a bright side to be considered.

Since it was early enough in the morning, I got out of bed anticipating the camp to be empty. Of course, I was wrong- Helen and the gang were already up eating breakfast. They did, however, buy my excuse about my dad calling and needing me to come home early. But that didn't stop them from pouting about it. "Aw, sure you can't stay any longer, Nancy?" Helen asked.

"Afraid I can't," I said in a tone so genuine I was surprised I didn't win an acting award on the spot. I said good-bye to all the girls whose names I still hadn't learned and promised them I'd be in touch. I made no indication exactly how I would manage that because I took no phone numbers, e-mails, or addresses, but I was already gone before they could figure that one out. Once I was back on the road, I drove slowly looking for any sort of side road that could possibly take me around the river to the side with the private cabins, but it was a difficult search even when I was peering over the steering wheel like a little old lady.

I got turned around three times before I found something even resembling a road- just a small dirt path that was barely wide enough for my tiny car to make its way down. Every time a branch hit the window, it made me nervous and every little bump in the road felt like a potential flat tire. But I was driving past cabins, at least- small glimpses of them appearing through the trees on the right side with the occasional flash of blue lake water as well. To make things even easier, I could see signs near the road with a majority of them with names on them. I considered it a lucky break and hoped the Tophams were the 'personal sign' kind of summer homers.

Before I could even get a chance to find out, I came to a fork in the road. "Damn." I took my chances- right. Right was always pretty trustworthy. But right soon turned into wrong as the road got narrower and narrower and the trees a bit too overgrown. I wondered how long it must have been since anyone had come down this path before I hit a bump so jarring I nearly slammed my head into the top of the car.

"OW! That's it!" I pulled the car over to what held a semblance toward the road's shoulder and grabbed my purse to get out. In my hurry to start walking, I brought my arm over too quickly and hit the steering wheel. The car let out a loud 'beep' that scared a few good birds and squirrels away. Thankfully, that seemed to be the only thing I'd frightened (except for myself- I hate it when the car horn goes off on you like that) and I got out of the car without a bunch of vacationers coming over to chew my ear off about disrupting the peace.

As I walked further up the path, I noticed there was an eerie amount of peace. Not like lakeside roads with temporarily abandoned cabins were alive with activity, but this side of Lake Firefly felt almost too quiet. I tried not to focus on it- turning all my attention on the posts I was passing. It was the second time in a few days I'd been looking for a home that way and I made a mental note to never do it again. It was exhausting and only slightly rewarding when I finally found a gray sign with the faded words 'TOPHAM HOLLOW' on it in print. It felt ostentatious- Topham Hollow was little more than a cabin settled a few yards from a tilted-looking private dock. It was definitely hollow, though.

Or it should have been, at least. The minute I walked up the short drive and got closer, I could see there was a white van parked close to the shadows of the trees on the far end. I'd long since realized that the road I'd been on was a service road- the one the van had come off on being one of the larger, wider roads seemingly used by the vacationers when they bothered to stop by. But this van was the only car in sight and the only tire tracks I could see clearly came from its big tires. "That's weird."

I got closer to the house- wondering if there was maybe some kind of groundskeeper left in charge of the grounds when the Tophams weren't around. I didn't really believe it once I'd thought it, though. As low as the Tophams seemed to be on funds, I couldn't picture them spending extra money they didn't have on the upkeep of a cabin they clearly never went to. Topham Hollow's windows were dark and dirty, the porch creaked when I stepped onto it, and the front door was wide open. I took it as an invitation- entering instead of just breaking and entering.

I walked inside the cabin just to find a lingering stuffiness. The door had been opened a while. And I could hazard a guess that the completely barren living room wasn't just a decor choice.

"I didn't see nothing," a male voice came from just outside one of the low windows. One of the robbers, I realized. Because the Tophams were definitely being _robbed_. "You must have been imagining things."

"I swear I heard a car horn go off!" another male voice said. By now, I could hear their footsteps on the creaky porch as they came back to the house. I'd done myself a favor by honking the horn and scaring them off- now I at least had time to hide.

Moving as quietly as I could, I headed into one of the back rooms and hoped there was some kind of back door. Of course, I didn't see any, but I realized my earlier assumption about the robbers was a little off. They were looting was more like it- not even a rug or mattress was in any of the rooms I passed by.

Settling on one room that looked like it had already been hit, I slipped inside and tried to stay behind the door. "Well, whatever," a woman's voice was saying. She sounded bossy- the kind of person who was in charge. "Just get back to loading up. We've wasted enough time at this one already."

"There's no more room in the truck, Liz," the second male voice said. "You sure you don't just want to finish up here?"

"We get another truck," came Liz's sharp response. Somehow, I got the feeling she was a very intimidating woman. They all sounded closer now- probably standing in the hallway. I wracked my brain trying to remember if I'd seen any rooms with things still in them. But naturally, my brain was coming up as empty as it remembered the rooms being. "This is a gold mine, you idiots. We're not just going to stop when one truck gets full and call it a day."

"Yeah," scoffed the first male voice I'd heard. "These dummy rich people just leave these places open for us to break into and steal all their stuff, we're not just going to take the kit and leave the kaboodle."

It was the weirdest expression I'd ever heard, but I couldn't focus on it for long. The thieves were getting closer judging by the sound of the floorboards near their feet. I turned around for the first time since entering the room and realized with horror that the room wasn't as empty as I thought. Brass fixtures, side dressers, and even an ugly looking painting was all ripe for the taking for a bunch of opportunist robbers. And here was my dumbass standing right in front of it. I could hear the sound of the door creak as someone slowly opened it in the next second that I panicked and looked for a place to hide.

A closet sat closed to the left and I hurried to slip inside of it. I barely had the door closed behind me before the robber fully entered the room. I stood as if petrified and waited to see if they'd spotted me at the last second. "Still some stuff in here, Dod," one of the men said. "Dressers and shit."

Dod just made a groaning sound. "It's all heavy," he complained. "I'm getting sick of the heavy stuff."

"Shut it and lift."

I would have breathed a sigh of relief at slipping past them if it wouldn't have been loud enough to attract their attention. Despite being concealed in the closet, the room was small enough that if I so much as shuffled or breathed funny they could hear me. So instead, I just stood as still as humanly possible. Definitely not an easy task- the closet I'd picked just happened to be full of dusty, musty fur coats of some kind all hung up on a golden metal rod. If I bumped a coat to hide myself further in the closet, I was afraid the metal hangers would jangle and be a dead give-away. I felt like a sitting duck. One that had a cramp in her leg from standing too still and had a bad urge to sneeze.

It felt like hours before Dod and his companion finished clearing out the last of the room. And another hour after that as I stood waiting to hear if they would come back. When they didn't and I could hear the sound of the van starting up outside, I relaxed for the first time in minutes. I was immediately reminded of how sore I was and brought up a hand to rub at my back out of habit. Naturally, I bumped a fur coat and the slight 'ting ting ting' of the metal hanger against the rod rung out in the empty space.

And then the door flew open.

I admit- I might have let out a small shriek of surprise. But in my defense, I hadn't expected the door to my hiding spot to fly open and reveal a short red-headed woman with blazing brown eyes and a rather wicked grin on her face. "Got'cha," she hissed, looking like the cat who got the canary.

Unfortunately for her, I was one canary who could put up a fight. "Just try and stop me from going to the police and telling them about your little operation," I snapped, trying to sound bolder than I felt. You take a few karate lessons as a kid and it doesn’t exactly give you the confidence to tame lions.

"Hm, okay." And then she slammed the closet door shut again. I was so confused I didn't move for a solid second. And in that solid second, I could hear the heavy 'clunk' of a key turning in a lock. When I tried the door, it wouldn't even budge. My struggling was easily masked by a loud, horrible cackle coming from the other side of the door. "Have fun starving to death in there, sweetheart!" the witch said. "If you don't dehydrate first."

And just like that she walked off- laughing herself silly the whole way. Just leaving me alone in a closet with a bunch of fur coats.

Just great.


	10. Clock

The first thing I did once I remembered myself was to check my cell phone.

No service and, of course, the battery was on 1%. I hadn't been able to charge it the last day and a half I was at that awful summer camp. It was a wonder Dad had even got a call in through it that morning.

So, with my phone dead, I didn't really have any other options, but to try to get out of the closet myself. Normally, it would have been easy. I could have just kicked the door in with my mad karate skills that I totally have. I took a class specifically _on_ kicking in doors at the River Heights Community Center once. But the closet was so small, I barely had room to lift my leg up- even when I was shoved all the way back in the fur coats and using the coat rack bar as a fulcrum. That just knocked the bar down and all the coats and sent up a great big cloud of dust.

Once I was done sneezing, I tried throwing myself into the closet door. Again, no room for momentum so I really just hit my shoulder against a hard surface for nothing. I hated it when that happened. After two attempts at freeing myself didn't work, I just sulked for a bit. During my sulking, I wondered at how bad my luck must have been. Really, what are the odds that I finally get to an abandoned summer home after all this only to get stuck in a closet by the robbers? And on top of that, they probably took the clock I'd been looking for in the first place. It was kind of a cosmic 'fuck you' if I'd ever seen one.

Ten minutes into sulking and I realized I was getting hungry. I know the head thief had made that little quip about starving or dehydrating to death, but I don't think she realized those sorts of things takes days or weeks to happen. What a boring way to die.

Thinking that made me want to escape again. And I figured out a new method when I noticed the gold metal rod I'd knocked over earlier. Picking it up, I placed one end against the door jamb and leaned against the other. My reward was a splintering sound as the door slowly gave way against the force from both ends- that fulcrum I’d been missing earlier finally helping me out. "Glad I can remember one thing from third grade."

After a few minutes of applying force against the door, it finally broke- freeing me from my prison and kind of adding insult to injury for Topham Hollow on top of the robbery. Oh well. I didn't hang around for long to get a full assessment of the house, but hurried to relocate my car. As much as I hated to waste time going down the long stretch of road, I knew I couldn't very well just _run_ after the thieves and try to catch up with them.

I followed tire tracks. Easy enough since the only cars that had been on these roads recently were mine and the Wandering Furniture Thieves. As I drove down the road as fast as I could, I began to realize the thieves had been hauling some kind of ass judging by how far ahead they seemed to be. It was beginning to get dark by the time I'd left the woods near the summer cabins of Lake Firefly and came out into the woods that seemed to make up the other half of Hayworth.

It was a big contrast to the town I'd visited the other day- way more spaced out and a lot more similar to the farmland like the Horner sisters lived on. It didn't do me any favors except for being relatively straight forward- no snap decisions for me to make as to right or left when the road just ambled along one way.

But it was still getting dark and I was getting antsier with every second. The light from my headlights were pretty much the only thing I could see by and I was constantly afraid a deer would come sprinting out of the nearby brush and cause me a costly collision that would waste my time. And also, possibly break all my limbs.

I needed to find those thieves before they took the furniture out of town to fence. I had a good guess that's what they would do, and the thought rubbed me the wrong way. Once that furniture- and the clock containing the biggest lead I had on Josiah Crowley's second will with it- left the immediate area of River Heights, it was as good as gone.

My anxiety started to get the best of me just as I came to the first fork in the road. "Oh, dammit." I had no back-up. No time to go down one way and figure out if it were wrong just to head back the other. I even got out of the car to try to look for tire tracks, but it was too dark and the road too traveled. While I hadn't passed anyone on my long drive in, it didn't seem to erase the fact that people used this road plenty in the day. I felt like cursing again, but I saved it for later.

I wasn't totally out of options, I tried to convince myself. I could think like a thief. And if I were a thief, which direction would I go? Okay, that maybe wasn't the best question. But for the strangest reason, I got the feeling these particular rogues were big fans of the direction 'right'. Maybe because it was easier. Or maybe because it was the road that lead to a bar and motel. Of course, I only realized that after I went down it, but still.

On a hunch, I pulled my car over to the shadowy far part of the roads and made my way over to the long, low building practically tucked into the earth it was built on. It had those sort-of-glass-bottle windows that were hard to see through and it provided the only light around for miles. So, as difficult as it was to peek through the windows and see what was inside, I knew that I had to. And when I focused hard enough (and pretty much pressed my whole face up against the glass), I was rewarded with the sight of one familiar face and her two buddies.

Fortunately for me, it looked like the thieves were busy throwing back some booze and celebrating their good fortune. Unfortunately for me, that meant I didn't really have time to dick around looking for their van. I started in the front lot and found nothing. By the time I got to the back and couldn't find it, I was beginning to worry that I didn't remember what the van properly looked like. "White. Round," I kept muttering to myself like it would help. After searching the back lot and some area near the trees where it seemed like some people parked, I only had one place left to check.

An old barn on the property hung back by the tree line- looking particularly pathetic and ramshackle. It was the kind of place that looked like it was bound to fall over the first instant someone breathed on it hard enough and I found myself holding my breath as I tiptoed over to it. I realized I wasn't really all that subtle. After all, I was wearing a white shirt that could easily be seen in the dark and light-colored jeans. I should really invest in more black clothing, I thought. Maybe a ski cap.

But I made it to the barn without attracting any attention from the people inside the bar and slipped in without making much noise at all. The next problem I had to deal with was that the barn was incredibly dark. Without a flashlight, I had to wait for my eyes to adjust before I started fumbling around looking for a white van. It was an agonizing few seconds of trying not to step in a hole and twist my ankle. But eventually, I bumped right into something that sort of felt like the metal side of a van. Backing away, I waited until I could at least partially see and made out a big white metal wall. Yup, that was the van.

As if to assure me it was, it also had tires caked with the same dry dirt that was lodged in my own shoes. Moving around to the back of the van, I tested out the back doors to see if they would budge. Unsurprisingly, they didn't. For a really long second, I contemplated my options. I could try and bust open the door, yes. But that would be a dead giveaway when the robberies came back and I didn't have the patience to do a high-speed chase in the middle of the night in unfamiliar territory. Plus, that was terrifying.

My other options felt like a long shot, but it was still better than 'inciting high speed chase'. I fumbled around to the front of the van and tried the driver’s side door. When the door opened, I was surprised. And when the overhead light automatically flicked on, I was blinded. For a second, I was terrified that I had made my snooping around obvious and I quickly closed the door. The light winked out and I was back in absolute darkness. When nothing happened for five whole seconds, I guessed I hadn't set off any sort of beacon.

Opening the door again, I braced myself against the light and could even make sense of the inside of the driver's seat I was seeing. The leather on the seat was ripped, cans littered the ground around the brake pedals, and I could smell the slightest hint of old cheeseburger. I ignored how gross it was in favor of searching for some kind of latch that might pop open the back door. When that failed, I dug around for anything I could use to pry it open or jimmy the latch. For once in my life, my luck prevailed, and I found something even better than a crowbar- actual keys.

"Hell yeah," I might have whispered aloud thanks to poorly contained excitement. I took the keys and- in the light of the still open door- I found the one that would most likely open the back doors. I closed the driver's side door, plunged myself into darkness again, and carefully picked my way back over to the van's back end.

I felt for the keyhole with my fingers and tried it only to find that the key didn't fit. I tried another key and another- two keys down before I got to the last one and I was practically praying it would work. It slipped into the lock and turned easily- the door giving a slight 'clunk' as it opened. A definite 'hallelujah' moment if I ever experienced one.

I opened the back doors carefully- not wanting to let loose an entire cacophony of falling furniture. I barely managed to avoid that much thanks to some of the furniture sliding as soon as I opened the door. But I could at least see enough that I could tell there was no clock in the very front of the mess of stolen furniture.

Since I couldn't very well just start taking furniture out and putting it on the ground, I decided to burrow my way inside to search that way. Cautiously, I slipped into the back of the van and wormed my way in between some tables on top. I was never a very small girl, but apparently, I was just small enough for this task- the furniture only moving a bit before settling with me on top of it.

Once I was on top of the mountain of furniture, I started to pick my way through it as quickly as I could. Chair, rug, painting, another chair- the thieves didn't really seem to have an organized method for their stolen goods. In fact, I started to get worried the clock wasn't even in here. Did they not take it? Was it not even in the Topham's cabin near the lake in the first place? Did I maybe get the wrong Topham?

Before paranoia could completely kick my ass, my hand bumped against something distinctly clock-like just beneath an upturned couch. Not like I was an expert at handling clocks and knew what they felt like upon touch, but I had a good feeling about the smooth wood my hand was against.

Sticking my other hand down to assist, I was armpit deep in furniture for as long as it took me to fish the clock out. It wasn't heavy by any means and it was just small enough for me to maneuver it out of the pile without moving much.

And then I was holding it.

The clock.

 _The_ clock.

And I knew it had to be it because even in the low light I could tell it had a face decorated with moons and stars. It was old-fashioned wood, old-fashioned style, and most of the bottom was taken up by a pendulum in a glass case that matched the one over the clock's face. It wasn't damaged or even nicked. No, Josiah Crowley's 'witch clock' was perfectly fine and 100% in my possession.

My elation over that achievement was short-lived when I could hear the sound of voices. Panicked, I hurried forward and tried to slip out of the back of the van. But there was the issue of a ton of furniture beneath me- which didn't move as seamlessly as ground or, you know, normal things you moved across did. So, by the time the voices got loud enough, I didn't have time to slip out so much as I could just close the doors as quickly as I could. I was in total darkness, then- crouched awkwardly on top of an upside-down dresser and some sideways chairs. I was also pretty sure there was a rug under me somewhere, but I didn't double check.

Instead, I just remained as still as possible as the voices grew louder. "Got the keys?" a male voice was asking. I vaguely recognized it as the voice of the one thief whose name I didn't know.

"In the car," Dod, the other thief, said. Their voices were equally slurred like they'd both been drinking. I didn't know if that would work in my favor or not. "Under the seat."

The driver's side door was yanked open and the light came on almost instantly. I tried to contain my panic when it became very clear that the light was shining on me and all Dod and his buddy had to do was look over the front row of seats to see me still on top of the furniture. As drunk as they were, I could guess they would still realize I wasn't a stolen chair.

"They're not there, idiot," Dod's friend said after a minute of searching. And yeah, he was right about that. Because the keys were in my hand- clenched so hard they were starting to hurt my fingers.

"I totally put them there!" Dod insisted.

"Ah, you're drunk," his partner said. A pause. "I'm drunk. Hell."

"This is bullshit," Dod grumbled. "We should just convince the boss we should stay here for the night. I'm no good to drive."

And yes, I was mentally screaming, yes you should do that! Leave the car and don't look back and give me enough time to get out of here with this stupid clock!

"Yeah, you're right," Dod's buddy sighed. "I’m not good for much other than sleeping right now, either." And while it seemed strange that criminals would be making sensible decisions about responsible driving, it was probably an even luckier break than finding the keys had been earlier. Closing the door, Dod and Co. ambled off and left the barn- and me- behind.

I waited a few long seconds before I moved. Carefully climbing down the furniture, I slipped out onto solid ground and realized my legs were shaking from the strain of propping myself up on top of a bunch of furniture. Not an easy balancing act, I discovered. But it was the least of my worries now as I closed and locked the back doors, attempted to put the keys back where I found them, and then slipped out of the barn just as quietly as I'd come. I had to spend a good few minutes hiding in the bushes to avoid people who just happened to be coming out of the bar at the late hour, but after an agonizing few minutes, I was able to hurry across the street to my hidden car.

Once I was inside, I put the clock in the back seat, turned the key in the ignition, and got the hell out of there with the headlights turned off. I only turned them on once I was a good distance down the road. And then a laugh burst out of me when I realized that _I'd frickin' did it_.

I had gotten the clock- after much delay- and I was one step closer to finding out what Josiah Crowley had hidden in it. In fact, I was so ridiculously close, I couldn't be bothered to wait.

Pulling over to the side of the road, I turned on the overhead light and leaned over into the back seat to grab the clock. In the light, I could see the clock was actually a lot more beautiful than I'd initially thought. Not like I was a big connoisseur of clocks, but the moon and stars on the face and the beautifully gilded handles struck me as interesting and unique features. The numbers were kind of hard to read, but I guessed the clock was so pretty that feature didn't matter all that much.

"Okay," I said aloud. I was pretty much talking to the clock, but it wasn't like anyone was around to judge me. "So, Josiah left the secret of his will in your hands." I poked at the clock face and my finger hit the glass cover. When I examined it, I found the latch easily. In the process of opening the side, I realized the clock made a sort of ' _clunk_ ' noise when I moved it. "Hm. That doesn't seem normal for a clock." I tried moving it again. ' _Clunk_ '. I even shook it- as ill-advised as that probably was. _'Clunk clunk clunk'_. Yup. Something was definitely stuck inside this clock.

After shaking it for a few more minutes, I eventually opened the bottom glass door and tried looking inside it. In the dim light, it was hard to see, but I was sure I saw something in there. Something blue. And paper-y. But after a few seconds of fiddling around with it, I wasn't having much luck getting it out. "If I had something sharp and pointy, maybe," I complained aloud. I would need to start carrying around stuff like that more often. I mentally scribbled it down- right next to the note about the dark clothes.

But for lack of anything sharp and pointy, I just picked and shook and rattled the clock until, eventually, the paper-y thingy came loose. "Aha!"

I was careful not to rip it as I took it out. And it was reward enough when I did. It was a tiny blue notebook full of cramped handwriting, but the more interesting part was right on the first page. "The Last Will and Testament of Josiah Crowley!" Dated, signed, and witnessed by none other than Abigail Rowen. And the date was far more recent than I could guess the first will was. I'd actually found the second will! And while I couldn't make sense of any of it at the moment, I was too excited to care.

My enthusiasm was only disrupted by the sound of a very loud 'whoop whoop'. A mechanical sound, it was also accompanied by a flash of red and blue lights. Quickly, I debated what to do with the clock. Even though I'd technically taken it from someone who'd stolen it in the first place, it was still stolen property. So, I put it in the back and covered it with the jacket I'd left back there. Keeping the will separate, I shoved that into my purse as deep down as it would go.

I somehow managed to do all of this before the police officer parked his car behind me and came up to knock on my window. I rolled it down and tried to smile as innocently as possible. "Hello, officer," I said, as pleasant as could be. "How can I help you?"

The officer just made a face like he wasn't amused by the question. "Do you have any idea how late it is, young lady?" he asked me, sounding bored. "I'm going to bet you're not old enough to be driving this late after curfew."

"Oh." Oops. I'd totally forgotten about that. Damn being sixteen and still subjected to the whims of adults. "Well, that was why I pulled over," I quickly fibbed. I hoped I wasn't glancing toward the back seat incidentally and making it obvious I was hiding something stolen back there. Not like _I_ stole it. First. "See, I was trying to get home and I wanted to call my dad to come get me, but my phone died so..."

I trailed off and gave a sort of shrug like 'what can you do?' The officer still didn't look amused, but he at least looked like he wasn't going to give me a hard time. "Alright," he said. "We'll drive back to the station and you can use the phone there to call your dad."

"What?" I didn't get an answer so much as the officer just looped around to the passenger side of the car and helped himself into the seat. It was weird. And I was partially sure it wasn't police procedure to escort underaged drivers in this method. But it really seemed like the only other option would have been the humiliation of being put in the backseat of the police car and leaving my car on the side of the road. "Um." The officer just looked at me with an arched eyebrow. Cole, his name badge said. "Which way is the station?"

Officer Cole pointed and for the next few minutes, I experienced the tensest drive of my life. It was one thing to drive with Hannah or Dad in the passenger seat back when I was 'learning' but to have an honest-to-God officer of the law in my passenger seat made me feel like I was doing everything wrong. It was a miracle and a half I didn't crash the car out of sheer anxiety before we reached the station, but I didn't. And once I was herded inside, Officer Cole just pointed me to a phone before going off to find someone to help him retrieve his car.

I picked up the landline and dialed Dad's familiar number. I didn't expect him to answer in the middle of the night, but then he actually did. Somehow, that was worse than him not answering. "Hello?"

"Um, hey." Good start, Nancy. "It's me. Nancy."

"Why are you calling me in the middle of the night from an unknown number?" Dad asked, sounding panicked. " I’ve been calling your phone for hours! What happened?"

"Oh, nothing." A lot, actually. But I couldn't say as much while an officer serving as receptionist was a few feet away from me. "But I'm at the police station-"

"You're _what_?"

"I was driving past curfew!" I said quickly. I felt almost ridiculous having to say it. "And my phone was dead so an officer brought me and the car back to the station so I could call you. And... yeah." I didn't know what else to say. Certainly nothing about the will I'd found or the stolen clock or the thieves or my recent brush with death by closet. That really all felt like a morning-after-breakfast topic.

"Nancy," Dad sighed on his side of the line. For some reason, I got the feeling he was pinching the bridge of his nose. Which was a thing he did when he was really stressed out. Usually by me. "Where is this police station?"

"I don't know," I said truthfully. It wasn't like I'd checked the address on the front when we'd pulled in. I was too busy trying not to side-swipe the police cars in the lot.

"Then have them drive you home."

"But-" I had a stolen clock in the back of my car. Poorly hidden beneath a jacket, on top of that. Driving past curfew was one thing, but stealing an already stolen object would be a little more hard to explain.

Dad cut me off before I could figure out how to get to that part, however. "Either you get a ride home, or you spend the night on a bench." And then he hung up on me. A very good sign that he was _beyond_ mad if he was going the ‘face the consequences of your actions’ route. I had to give him five minutes to cool down before he would frantically Google nearby police stations to try to find me himself. That would come with an even worse lecture.

Feeling more disappointed in myself than distressed about the situation (though I was sort of both), I put the phone back on the receiver and turned to the officer at the reception desk. She was at least sympathetic when I told her I needed a ride home. And then totally confused when I told her I had to report a breaking and entering and multiple thefts. On the bright side, while I got into a car with Officer Cole to be driven back home, another car took off with sirens wailing to go and arrest the thieves I had just happened to see on my late night drive with a van full of illicitly obtained furniture.

It was the little things.


	11. Epilogue: Memento

When I got home that night after Officer Cole dropped me off, I didn't get much out of Dad except a 'bed. now.' And I'd obeyed because I figured it wouldn't do me any good to push my dad further.

But come morning, I was up bright and early with the will in my hand to show him. Dad's first glance at the small blue notebook was one of confusion. "What is that?" he asked.

"Josiah Crowley's second will," I said. "I found it. That's what I was doing last night." Dad just looked horribly unimpressed. "I'm serious!" I insisted while putting the will on the table. "I talked to one of his old friends and she said he'd hidden it in a clock that he owned, but the Tophams inherited all his furniture. But then when I talked to the Tophams, they said they'd put Josiah Crowley's old furniture at their summer house, so I went to the summer house. And when I got there it was being robbed by these burglars and they locked me in a closet. But then I got out and I followed them to this bar, and I snuck into their van and I stole the clock back-"

"Nancy.”

"And I found the will inside," I said, quieter this time. "Signed and dated. Witnessed by Abigail Rowen. I'll bet you it's the most recent version of his will. And it doesn't leave anything to the Tophams."

Part of me hoped Dad wouldn't just pick up the will out of spite and throw it in the trash. But I could understand if he would. Dad had this whole thing about me being 'irresponsible' and ‘not listening to a word he said’. For a really long minute, I was sure he would take me as seriously as he would a bear riding a unicycle. But then he picked up the small booklet and flipped to the first page. After another long second, he spoke. "I will call Henry Rolstead," he said levelly. "And we'll look over this document to see if it really is a will." I let out a breath of air in a rush. "But until that decision is reached, you are _so_ grounded."

"What-"

"Grounded," Dad repeated. “Nancy Drew, you’ve lied to me, deliberately disobeyed me, and endangered yourself in ways I can’t even begin to list. So, you’re grounded. Indefinitely.” And there was no arguing with that.

Leaving the will with Dad, I sulked back to my room to remain there for the next few days. There were some concessions to the 'grounding'. For one thing, I had to go and get the car back and return the stolen clock from it- with a sheepish explanation about why I even had it in the first place. Fortunately, since Dad was with me at the time, he used some legal mumbo-jumbo to make it so I wouldn't be given anything except a scolding by the police for tampering with evidence. Not like they needed any more. Apparently, those thieves had stolen a royal shit-ton of furniture from nearby summer homes by Lake Firefly recently.

The only other concession was that I got to talk to Grace and Ally. They visited- related exciting news about how Henry Rolstead and my dad had contacted them about a second will reading. I couldn't help but hold out hope for them that Josiah Crowley kept his promise after all. Dad had expressly forbidden me from seeing the will or any of the things they'd transcribed from it- part of the 'grounding'- and I had to wait like everyone else for the official reading. When that day came, I had to dress up nice and stand into a small room Henry Rolstead had set up in his offices.

There were a ton of metal chairs set out to be filled and slowly, but surely, they were. First to arrive were Grace and Ally who waved at me excitedly before sitting down in the middle. Then, came the Silvers, the Williamsons, and even Miss Abby escorted by her neighbor. Miss Abby was certainly tired, but as she told me she wouldn't 'miss this for the world'. The very last to arrive were the Tophams. Richard Topham's expression was stormy, Cora Topham looked like she'd just smelled something awful, and then Ada and Isabel just looked as sour-faced as usual. I could have sworn they looked even nastier the minute they saw me hovering near the front desk.

The minute the Tophams took their noble little seats, Henry Rolstead cleared his throat and stood up. "Thank you all for coming," he said. "To the reading of Josiah Crowley's final will." A snort sounded from the gathered group and we all knew it came from a Topham. We just didn't bother to look in their direction. "I'll keep things simple before going into detail. But the late Mr. Crowley's affects will be divided up as such."

He picked up a sheet of paper Dad had handed him when we'd walked in and adjusted his reading glasses. Then, without much ado, he began to read. "As executor, I will read the parts as they're written. To begin: 'I, Josiah Crowley, claim this to be my last will and testament, hereby revoking all former wills made by me at this time. I bequeath all my property, real and personal, as follows. To Grace and Ally Horner, my beloved nieces, I give a sum equal to twenty percent of my estate, share and share alike."

I couldn't hold back the smile on my face as Grace and Ally heard the news. Grace gasped and covered her hand with her mouth as tears filled her eyes and Ally just looked wholesomely delighted. Henry Rolstead kept reading. "To my dear friend and the kindest woman I have ever met, Abigail Rowen, a sum equal to ten percent of my estate."

"Oh," Miss Abby gasped. She looked surprised and the slightest bit relieved. And Henry Rolstead kept reading. To the Williamsons and the Silvers, Josiah had given twenty percent- ten for each member of the pair. And the entire time he read, the Tophams looked more and more nervous.

Just after the Silvers expressed relief about their inheritance, Richard Topham stood up from his seat with a thunderous look on his face. "Just a minute!" he snapped. "Am I mentioned at all?"

"Yes," Henry Rolstead said plainly. He glanced at the paper like he had to read it, but I got the feeling it was all for show. "Five hundred dollars. And to Grace and Allison Horner-"

" _Five hundred dollars_?" Richard Topham exploded. "But Josiah's estate is easily worth billions after taxes!"

"Are we not mentioned at all?" Cora Topham spat. She looked pale while Ada was an unnatural shade of red and Isabel looked like she was trying to count on her fingers. "Me or the girls?"

"No," Henry Rolstead said firmly. He tried to go back to reading. "To Grace and Allison Horner-"

"This will is a fraud!" Richard Topham blurted out. "The only will Crowley ever made was the one where he named me as executor and left everything to my family!"

"This will was verified in March," Dad spoke up, using a tone that was much quieter but still spoke volumes louder than Richard Topham. "It's been examined by a court and several lawyers including myself. Are you trying to say, Mr. Topham, that this is all some elaborate conspiracy against you?"

Mr. Topham went scarlet and wisely chose not to say a word. Unfortunately, 'wise' was never a word that fit his daughters. "She did it!" Ada blurted out- jumping up and pointing directly at me. "She orchestrated this- this whole scheme to ruin us! I just know it!"

"I just found the will," I admitted with a shrug. "The rest worked itself out."

Ada turned fuchsia to match her dad and Isabel had joined her in standing up. Cora Topham was the only one still sitting and I could tell from her face that she knew full well her family was embarrassing her. "You little-"

"Girls!" Mr. Topham cut them off before either could throw their best insults my way. At their father's look, Ada and Isabel both plopped back into their seats. Richard Topham just glared at us gathered at the front like we'd personally poisoned his water supply. "We will contest this."

"Of course, you have the right," Henry Rolstead said calmly. "Now if you'd let me finish reading." Mr. Topham sat down and did his best impression of a bump on a log while Rolstead adjusted his glasses and carried on. "To Grace and Allison Horner, I give all my household items currently within the possession of Richard Topham."

"Wha-" Mr. Topham gaped. I wasn't sure on the legal language, but I was pretty sure Josiah Crowley had just subtly worked in a jab about the Tophams taking his furniture.

I had to force myself not to smile as Henry Rolstead put down the paper he'd held. "The rest of the will details accounts to be covered, the state of assets, and where another percentage of Mr. Crowley's will should go to charitable causes. My understanding is that the assets were kept in a liquid state which makes them very easily convert-able." He smiled for the first time since he'd opened the meeting. "After the will finishes going through probate, you will all have access to your inheritance."

Everyone was happy about that- minus the Tophams. And while they stormed out with one more to-do about how they were going to fight this, everyone else was busy hugging and chatting happily about Josiah's kindness. Even Dad put a hand on my shoulder. "Am I supposed to take that as a form of 'good job, Nancy'?" I asked him.

Dad frowned. “If I give you any sort of praise, you won’t get it until after you’re done being grounded.” I’d take it. And I wasn’t hung up on it because Grace and Ally were moving to talk to me anyway.

"Nancy, thank you so much," Grace said past a barely concealed wobble in her voice. "If it weren't for you-"

"It's no big deal," I assured her. "I'm just glad you guys got the money you deserved. Oh, and tons of furniture."

Grace gave a watery laugh. "I don't know about furniture," she admitted with a shrug. "We already have plenty. Of course, I don't want to just throw it all away since it meant so much to Uncle Josiah..."

"Don't get too ahead of yourself," I reminded them. "The will still has to go through all sorts of legal loops before it's approved." I put one hand on the side of my mouth as I stage-whispered the next bit. "But in my 'daughter of a lawyer's opinion, you guys don't have much to worry about."

Grace seemed glad and Ally was just elated. And for the next few days while the will went through the final hoops (ineffectively halted by the Tophams almost at every turn), I just got to enjoy the accomplished feeling of a job well done even if I was grounded. So, when Grace and Ally said they had finally figured out how they would thank me, I wasn't sure how to tell them I didn't need it. I felt like I’d already done enough- exceeded my best expectations, took home the gold and the silver, won free toaster strudel for life, and all that.

"We want to give you something!" Grace said when she and Ally came over to my house the first day I was officially ‘ungrounded’. Dad had let me communicate through phone for most of my internment since Bess, George, and Hannah obviously needed to know what I’d been up to. I’d looped more than just Grace and Ally in on my phone tree to learn news of the outside world, though. Including Helen and her summer camp buddies. Just to be nice. "As thanks for everything."

"I really don't need it," I insisted for the hundredth time. "Honestly, the fact that you guys got what you deserved is enough for me."

"Oh, but Nancy, we insist," Ally pressed. And I was helpless as I stood there and let them take a big cloth-wrapped bundle out of a box they'd been toting around. "Tada!" Ally sang as she presented it to me.

"Gee, thanks," I laughed. "I love cloth."

"Nancy, unwrap it," Grace said in her no-nonsense older sister tone.

I obeyed- if only for their sake- and could admit I was surprised when I saw what was under the cloth. "Oh, wow." I held up Josiah Crowley's witch clock and watched the sunlight glint off the golden hands. Freshly polished no doubt. "You guys really want to give me this?"

"Consider it a memento," Grace said with a slight shrug. "Of all the help you gave us."

"I love it," I said. And I actually did. Something about having the clock made me really happy. Even when I was never one for clocks in the first place. "Thanks, you guys."

"Oh, but that's not all!" Ally announced loudly.

Even Grace looked confused by her sister's proclamation. "It isn't?"

"No," Ally said. Her eyes were practically sparkling. "I'm going to name a chicken after you, Nancy!"

I was sure if any of my neighbors glanced out their windows at that moment, they’d wonder why I was holding a clock and laughing so hard in the middle of the day out on my front lawn. But I would maintain that that one was my secret.

**Author's Note:**

> This work is unaffiliated with any current copyright holders of the Nancy Drew Mystery Stories and Nancy Drew trademark. It is purely for fun and speculation.


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